


Gold and Grace

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Abuse, F/M, Lopsided Love Triangle, Mutual Pining, Sexual Abuse, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Transitioning, Unrequited Love, mentions of rape in later chapters which will be tagged for accordingly, none of it involves the main ship though do not worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: Cisco and Lisa's relationship goes in a slightly different direction after their first meeting. For better or worse, the Snarts have made Cisco their family, with all that entails, and everyone in Central City, on both sides of Team Flash, has mixed feelings about that fact.





	1. New Gold

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my most recent long fic, written over the course of most of the summer, and then school started and kept me too busy to update. Now though, I think it's time, and I'll continue to be able to update once a week! Enjoy!

There was no sound in the main room aside from the occasional mechanical click and whirr, a heated humming punctuated by blistering screeches as Cisco worked over the two guns in front of him, his fingers skimming over their edges, putting new pieces together.

“He doesn’t call you by your real name, you know.”

“Excuse me?” Cisco lifted his head up, blinking. Lisa was leaning against the open doorframe, scooting her ring in circles around her finger with her thumb, her head cocked. Cisco furrowed his brow. “Who, my brother?”

“Mm,” Lisa said. “Calls you something else. Keeps using the wrong words for you. It was really starting to bug me.”

“He doesn’t,” Cisco began, and then stopped. He looked down at the guns. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Is too,” she insisted. “If anyone did that to me, Mick would punch their face so hard it’d cave in.”

“Ew.” Cisco shuddered, big and theatrical, and she beamed. He stopped for a second to take her smile in, big and genuine, gleaming like gold. She _was_ golden; she was like the sun. He turned his head towards her a little more, observing her. “You and Len have the same smile, you know that?”

“We do? That’s neat,” Lisa said, shunting some of his blueprints aside and climbing up onto the table. He swatted her away and she grabbed his wrist, twisting it up and kissing the heel of his palm. “You big silly. When have you seen Lenny smile?”

“I, uh,” Cisco licked his lips, fiddling a strand of hair around his finger. “He tell you I’m the one that named him Captain Cold?”

“Oh, he has,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes, “like, a zillion times. He’s _so_ in love with it.”

“Yeah. I know. When I called him that and he smiled, I—I remembered it. It’s not like I see your brother smile every day,” Cisco said. Lisa huffed.

“Me neither, and I sleep in the same bed as him,” she said, laying down on the table. Cisco’s hands froze while handling the parts of the gun in front of him.

“I’m sorry?” he said, raising his eyebrows. Lisa shrugged.

“What? We all cuddle. Saves on space,” she said, “which is hard to come by, since we’re sleeping in the van like, all the time. Besides, Mick is super warm. You should touch him, he’s like a space heater.”

“I don’t know if I should really,” Cisco gestured, taking his hands out of the guts of both guns, “you know, like…”

“Why not?” Lisa said. “Oh, Cisco. Don’t be so _fussy.”_

“ _Fussy?_ You _kidnapped_ me,” he retorted.

“Not really,” she said with a shrug. “You came back here ‘cause _you_ wanted to kiss me, right?”

“I,” Cisco looked down into the innards of the guns. “Is Len listening? I don’t want to die.”

“He’s not gonna _hurt_ you, he’s a big _softie,”_ Lisa said. “And he _loves_ you, Cisco. He never shuts _up_ about you. Mick’s so _jealous.”_

“Oh. Haha. Cool.” Cisco paused, reconciling himself with the inevitability of death. “Yeah. Wow. Haha. Man.”

“ _Any_ way, you’re not being kidnapped, Cisco,” Lisa said. “You wanted to kiss me and take me back to my place so you could kiss me more, right? Maybe even a little bit extra, huh?”

“I’m really busy,” Cisco lied, fitting wires together and making adjustments to the firing pins. Lisa grinned.

“I really wanted to kiss you too, you know,” she said. “You were _so_ handsome sitting there. And you didn’t even notice. You were so sad and wound up and stressed out, and I wanted to be the one to unravel all of that in you.”

She reached out, rubbing her hand over his, squeezing it gently. “You look so nice with long hair. Do you want to cut it?”

“I—I feel like I should,” Cisco sighed. “But no. I can’t.”

“I understand,” Lisa said, reaching up to run her hands through his hair. “I’m glad. If it makes you happy, you should keep it the way it is. It’s your body, Cisco.”

“Sometimes I don’t know, lately,” Cisco said. “Doesn’t feel like it. Is that dumb? That sounds so dumb. Oh man.”

“No,” Lisa murmured, stroking a thumb along his cheekbone, “it doesn’t.”

He looked at her. She smiled, glancing away and leaning in all at once. Cisco bridged the gap and kissed her, capturing it, drinking her light in and letting her pull him closer, deeper and deeper until his heart hammered against his ribs, its valves spewing out sunshine into his chest, lighting him up from within.

She broke the kiss first, but only to press her forehead against his. Cisco nuzzled his nose against hers in a daze, mumbling comfortably as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Lisa pulled back to kiss him again, a light, quick peck. “Cutie.”

They stayed like that for a little while, just holding each other, with Cisco leaning into her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, leaning back so he could brace his hands on the tabletop. Her hair brushed his cheeks as she scooted a little closer.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m just—really happy to have somebody who gets it.”

“’Course,” she said, hugging him tight. He winced, and she pulled away. “Sorry, sorry! Do you bind? You’ve probably had it on for awhile, you should take it off.”

“No, it’s just—I only got top surgery like, six months ago, the scars still feel sore,” Cisco said. Lisa nodded, running a hand down his chest. He shivered, arching his body forward into the touch. “Sorry, it’s dumb—“

“It’s not dumb,” Lisa said. “I wanna be gentle with you. Okay?”

He leaned in closer, let her play with his hair, winding it in ringlets around her fingers. “Okay.”

For a little while, he laid his head against her chest, his cheek turned to listen to her heartbeat, his eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed. Lisa played with his hair in one hand, running her fingers down his back with the other.

“Lis, he’s supposed to be working.”

The noise made Cisco jump. Lisa held him closer, straightening up and glaring at Len as he entered the room. “Don’t be a jerk, Lenny, he _was_ working!”

“You were supposed to be looking after our other guest while Mick and I were out,” Len said, leaning his elbows on the table. “There a reason you’re out here canoodling with Cisco instead?”

“I don’t like the other one,” Lisa said, making a rough impatient noise in the back of her throat. “He doesn’t use the right name for Cisco.”

Cisco’s spine trembled, a shudder that rippled down his body and coiled in his stomach. Len cocked his head just slightly, drawing himself up. His body bristled at every edge, like ice that had been abruptly doused in hot water, splintering and breaking open into sharp edges.

“Is that right?” Len said. “Interesting. Cisco?”

“It’s,” Cisco swallowed. “Please don’t be mad at him. He doesn’t think I’m serious, that’s all. Thinks it’s a phase.”

Len’s hands tightened into fists. “ _Does_ he?”

“It’s—it’s not his fault, though!” Cisco amended. “It’s—my parents don’t know. Don’t get it. It’s not like—“

“It’s not _difficult_ ,” Len said. “Are your parents braindead, Cisco? They can’t be. How could they have a son _half_ so clever as you if they’re functionally vegetables?”

“You and I are twice the thieves daddy ever was, Lenny,” Lisa piped up. Len snorted.

“Point. But. This is a simple matter. You’re their son,” he said, gesturing to him. “And this is my baby sister. How is that a hard concept for people to grasp?”

“You know why,” Cisco mumbled, mostly to his hands. Len sighed.

“I do. I do. I promise,” he said. “Cisco.”

“Send him home,” Cisco said, glancing up at Lisa and then looking away just as quickly. “Please. I don’t want—“

“Don’t want to stay? You were having so much fun,” Len said. “Building things. Kissing my sister.”

“No, it’s—I don’t want him here,” Cisco said, his throat tight. “I’ll make the stupid guns! Just—just please send him home. I don’t—I don’t—“

He flapped his hands in the air, like shaking them out would shoo away the feelings ballooning in his chest, making the space behind his eyes throb. “Please make him go. I’ll build the guns. I’ll—I’ll build Lisa a gun, too.”

Lisa’s eyes lit up. “ _Really?”_

“Let him go home,” Cisco said. “I’ll do it if he goes. I don’t want to be here, like this, with him here.”

“Why?” Len asked, leaning closer. Cisco shook his head, turning away.

“It’s not safe to be myself at home,” he said. “Can’t wear the clothes I like. Can’t use the right name. Don’t…feel right. With my family.”

“He’s your _family_ ,” Len said, brows raised, watching Cisco’s expression. Cisco wouldn’t make eye contact with him, still flapping his hands, shaking them out and shaking his head.

“He’s someone else’s family,” he said. “I’m not that person. I’m not his _mija,_ so I’m not his family. Right? Right?”

There was a beat of silence. Len stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed, leaning his head back.

“Mick?” he called. “Take Dante home. Send him back with a message, too.”

Mick came into the room, head cocked. “Cisco finish the gun?”

“Work in progress,” Len said. “We’re sending a message. Tell Dante to let everyone know that Cisco stays here, with us, and if anyone tries to come after him, there’ll be trouble. Got it?”

“Fair ‘nough,” Mick agreed. “I wanna see the gun when you’re done, _mijo.”_

“See? Mick can get it right, and he’s Italian,” Lisa piped up. Cisco hid his face in his hand, grinning into his palm.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, still looking at the ground. “Len? Thanks.”

“You’re the one fixing my gun,” Len said with a shrug. “Speaking of, now we’re definitely not letting you leave until you build Lisa one, too. Something that suits her.”

Cisco made a face, deep in thought. “Dunno what to make.”

“Something pretty,” she said. “Something pretty, and sleek, and…and toxic. And bad. Like me.”

Cisco reached out and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over it. He didn’t make eye contact with her—couldn’t. But he laid his head against the hollow of her throat, closing his eyes.

“Nope,” he said. “Something golden. I think you’d look good like that. All shiny and big and beautiful.”

“Why, Cisco,” Lisa said, grinning. “Are you coming onto me?”

“And I’m right here, besides,” Len groused. Lisa rolled her eyes at him.

“Shut up, dummy, he’s being sweet,” she said. “Poor little Cisco. Got a thing for bad girls.”

He shook his head, and she smiled, swinging her legs off the table and hooking her arm over her brother’s shoulder. “C’mon Lenny, let’s call in takeout. I’m hungry and I want Chinese.”

“Fine, fine,” he said. “Want anything, Cisco?”

“To leave.”

“Fat chance,” Len said. “Dumplings and spare ribs sound good?”

Cisco nodded, waving him off, listening to the sounds of him and Lisa heading down the hall and bickering about their Chinese order before sighing and picking up the cold gun.

…

“You haven’t tried to escape, not once,” Mick said by way of greeting, plunking his elbows down on the table, proffering out a white box of spare ribs as an offering. Cisco took them and popped a few hanks of rib meat into his mouth with a shrug.

“Why bother?” he said. “I know what these guns can do. And even if the guns aren’t done yet, you could crush me between two fingers, look at you.”

Mick grinned, oddly sweet and warm coming from someone bristling with muscle and covered in scar tissue. “S’true. But you’re just building these guns for us like it doesn’t matter to you. You know what we do with them. You’re not a fuckin’ moron.”

“I’m not,” Cisco said. “But I have faith in the Flash. I think he’ll stop you before you can do any damage with these.”

“Loyal,” Mick said. “Cute.”

Cisco looked away. Mick slid a shot across the table to him. “Drink, kid. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

Cisco wrinkled his nose. Mick rolled his eyes. “What, you don’t want hair on your chest? Aren’t you doing T shots yet?”

“What? Huh? Oh,” Cisco said, downing it and choking back a splutter. “Yeah. Since I started working at STAR labs, actually.”

“S’good. Better to start young,” Mick said, “when you can, I mean. That’s why Lenny and I took all those big scores a few years back. Estrogen’s expensive.”

“You took care of her,” Cisco said, staring down into the glistening red-black chunks of barbeque in the carton. Mick shrugged.

“We’re family. S’what you do,” he said. “No one’s gonna hurt Lisa while Lenny and I still live and fuckin’ breathe.”

“Loyal,” Cisco mimicked, “cute.”

Mick laughed, big and broad, teeth bared. “Huh! Shit, I know. I suppose. Nothin’ wrong with that, though. Honor among thieves is all we got.”

Cisco nodded. Mick leaned back, not pushing him into further conversation or eye contact. Cisco’s shoulders slumped slowly, relaxing by degrees, and Mick nodded, taking another shot. He passed one over to Cisco and let it sit.

“Mick?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did Len come after me?” Cisco said. “I can tell you two’ve been repairing the guns on your own. It’s not bad work for DIY stuff. I think you would’ve been just fine without my help. So…why come after me, specifically? Even another engineer could repair these, one without connections to the Flash, and—“

“Len was worried about you.”

Cisco stopped. Blinked. Cocked his head. He turned to Mick, goggle-eyed. “ _Me?_ He _kidnapped_ me!”

“True,” Mick agreed, popping a piece of spare rib into his mouth. “But you heard him before, didn’t you? He worries. ‘Cause you got a big brother that deadnames ya, and uses the wrong fuckin’ pronouns, like an asshole.”

“It’s not his fault—“

“Stop making excuses for the kid! _I_ learned, and I ain’t exactly a fuckin’ concert pianist,” Mick snapped. Cisco held his hands up.

“Anyway. Len worries. He _fusses._ He _likes_ you,” Mick said, grimacing. “You fucked up, you know. Gave him a name. S’like all that shit in fantasy novels about fairies and true names and stuff. He was strutting around for weeks afterwards, calling himself _Captain Cold_ in the third-fuckin’-person, an’ I swear to god I was ‘bout five seconds from divorcing him.”

Cisco snorted, grinning and glancing down. “He’s a bit dramatic.”

“He’s a dramatic little flirt, and I love him, but _Christ_ ,” Mick said. “Tell you the truth? Sure, we could’ve pulled some asshole outta the five-fuckin’-hundred science labs this city is ass-deep in, but Len wanted to see you again. And Lisa too, I think.”

“Why Lisa?” Cisco asked, tilting his head and furrowing his brow. “I’ve never met her. Have I?”

“Nah. But you’re the man her big brother won’t shut up about, and there’s not many people worth more than a minute of Lenny’s time. S’just me, her, and him mostly. So she got curious. Wanted to meet you.”

“Well,” Cisco said, smiling at nothing, “I’m glad she did.”

There was a beat. Mick split the last of the scotch bottle between two glasses and passed one to Cisco. He took a sip and swallowed past the burn. “Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna kill me because Len wouldn’t stop talking about me?”

“What? Jesus!” Mick said, wiping liquor from his lips with his jacket sleeve and stifling a snort. “Nah. S’fine. I think I get it, too. You’re his type.”

Cisco spat out the scotch in his mouth and Mick cackled. “Not like that! But, y’know. You’ve got a bad family and you’re too clever by half for the people you’re surrounded with. He wants to be a white knight here, y’know. Swoop in and save you.”

“Oh,” Cisco said, licking his lips. “I mean. I was doing okay.”

“Lisa picked you up at a bar,” Mick said. “Nobody goes and hangs out with their family and then skips town for drinks right after if they actually like being around ‘em.”

“It’s not exactly abnormal for you to not get along with your family all the time,” Cisco protested. Mick shrugged.

“Sure. But it’s kinda fuckin’ abnormal when they can’t even get your name right.”

Cisco sat in silence for a little while after that, putting the finishing touches on the guns. Mick got up and cuffed him gently on the shoulder as he grabbed his gun and went for the door.

“Look. Kid. You’re not the only one here with a bad homelife,” Mick said. “Difference is, you’re a good kid. You wouldn’t do a thing to hurt them.”

He pulled the trigger and watched a burst of flames bubble out of the gun, a frothing spew of fire that licked anxiously at the air, wavering with heat and promise. Mick beamed. “But don’t worry, Cisco. We will.”


	2. Justified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick has an impulse control problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a plot-heavy chapter, but next chapter is going to be a little lighter and fluffier. Stay strong everybody, and enjoy!

“You weren’t kidding about the van space,” Cisco said, largely into Lisa’s breasts. She laughed, one arm wrapping around him and hefting him up into her lap as they rounded a corner.

“It’s all three of us and the van’s a little cramped, yeah,” Lisa said. “And now you!”

“And now me,” Cisco sighed, closing his eyes. “Is now a bad time to mention I get carsick? ‘Cause I get carsick.”

“Throw up when we get there, Cisco,” Len said, turning back to look at them both. “Lis? He’s not putting his hands anywhere untoward, is he?”

“No, but he should.”

Cisco hid his face in his hands and Lisa laughed, big and gleaming. “C’mon, Cisco, the least we could do is give them a good show!”

“We could absolutely not,” Cisco said, “ever.”

“I vote to overrule,” Mick said, and Len raised his hand in agreement. Lisa grinned.

“This isn’t a democracy,” Cisco said, “my body’s a dictatorship, and I’m dictator, effective immediately.”

“Fine, feel your boyfriend up later, Lis,” Mick said, jerking the wheel to the left. “Hey, Len, question—you want me t’just drive through the wall?”

“I mean, we _are_ trying to make an entrance,” Len said. “Let’s give the Santinis something to remember us by.”

“The hell with that, all my stuff’s in here!” Lisa protested, scrambling upright. “Lenny, if you fucking go through the wall and fuck up this van, you’re the one getting my makeup bag and clothes trunk out of the damn back seat!”

“Fine, fine, necessary risk,” Len agreed. Cisco buried his face into his hands.

“How about _we_ don’t drive through the window so _you_ have a place to sleep in the morning, and _I_ don’t _die_ because there are no _seatbelts_ in this hunk of junk!” Cisco snapped.

“Hurtful!” Lisa protested. “I’ve been working on it for five years now!”

“So in _all those five years,_ it has never occurred to you _once_ to put in seatbelts!”

“Okay lovebirds, hate to interrupt, but it’s time to compromise,” Mick said. “We’re not gonna drive through the wall.”

“Cool. Nice. Excellent.”

“But,” Mick said, slamming his foot on the gas, “we _are_ going in through the spinny-door.”

“The _what—“_

The van whammed through the rotating doors with a screech and a clinking of glass, falling all over the carpets as Len and Mick hollered, delighted, driving down the stairs and into the pit of the casino.

Lisa extricated herself from the mess with grace and ease, opening the door and stepping out. Cisco leaned out and retched for a few minutes first, before scrambling out after the trio, running onto the floor of the casino, holding his hands up.

“Wait, wait, stop, whatever this is we can maybe get through it without killing anyone? Please—“

Cisco’s protests were cut off when one of Don Santini’s bodyguards grabbed him by the collar and hefted him up, holding him in front of Len and Mick.

There was a pause—a split second between his air being cut off and his heart pounding in his ears, and Len’s expression splitting open, a cold mask cracking in half to reveal blazing fury, the very air around him bristling with anger and hatred. He hefted his gun, and it whirred to life.

“Drop him,” Len said, silky-soft, “or you’ll live just long enough to regret it.”

“Nah, buddy,” Santini said, hefting up his gun, “but you’ll live just long enough to watch him die.”

Cisco closed his eyes and waited for the bullet to burrow inside him.

A loud _bang_ echoed through the room, but it wasn’t a gun—it was the air being abruptly shoved aside and then brought back together, mass traveling through it so fast that the sudden absence made it pop and rumble, like thunder. Thunder. Oh, god.

“Barry,” Cisco said, from in his arms. He laid his head against the lightning bolt on Barry’s chest, grinning tightly with relief. “Oh, man. Excellent timing.”

“You’re okay,” Barry said, beaming and helping Cisco to his feet. “I was so worried, we were all so worried—Cisco, oh my god, what happened?”

Cisco opened his mouth to explain, but the whirr of a gun powering up left him openmouthed, speechless, as Mick pulled the trigger and poured fire over Don Santini.

He screamed, and so did Cisco. Len grabbed Mick’s hand, too late, turning and yelling, “Mick, what the _hell,_ we agreed _no unprovoked killing—“_

 _“_ He _did_ provoke me,” Mick snapped, turning the gun on the stunned assemblage of bodyguards. “He was gonna kill Cisco. He deserved to die.”

“ _We needed him_!”

“The fuck we did. He almost killed Cisco,” Mick repeated.

Cisco closed his eyes and turned away, retching into Barry’s chest. The smell was a crisp, bracing kind of hideous; the flesh did not rot off his bones, but melted, fat bubbling in his belly and along his cheekbones, dripping off and sizzling, greasy putrid bubbles that stained the carpets. Mick didn’t break eye contact with the corpse once.

“Lenny, he’s right,” Lisa said, her voice soft. “Mick was just protecting him.”

“That—that’s what you consider protecting someone?” Barry said, pulling himself upright. “That was a man you just set on _fire_ in cold _blood—“_

“Excuse me, we were doing _your job,”_ Len snarled, stepping forward, standing just in front of the corpse. Barry didn’t move. Cisco didn’t look at him, or Len, or Mick and Lisa. He could barely keep eye contact with his hands.

“ _My_ job? I wasn’t aware being a superhero suddenly included murder in the job description,” Barry snapped.

“No, idiot,” Len seethed, “protecting _him.”_

Cisco hugged himself tight. Barry turned to him, his eyes softening. “Cisco?”

He shook his head. Couldn’t look at anyone. Couldn’t breathe. If he opened his mouth, he would throw up. He knew this, so he kept his chest tight, stifled his breathing, and threw up through his nose anyway.

Cisco gasped and dropped to his knees, spitting out of his mouth and sneezing, hacking huge, wet, wretched coughs in between screaming and sobbing, hiding his eyes in his hands as he tried not to breathe in the smell of burning flesh at the same time as he puked up the Chinese takeout he’d just shared with Mick not an hour ago—

He retched again at the thought. Len gestured at Barry with his gun. “Look at him. This is _your fault,_ you Crimson _Cretin_ —“

“The insult’s a little vaudeville, Lenny.”

“Mick, now is not the fucking time,” Len said, not even looking at him. “Idiot. You never protected him. I should shoot you where you stand, you—you absolute _bastard—“_

“Me? I didn’t bring him to a—a freaking mob shootout—you should be glad I’m here, or he would’ve gotten _shot—“_

Cisco moaned, trying to spit all the bile out of his mouth as Len hissed. “I’m not talking about the _gunfight,_ idiot! I’m talking about his _family!”_

There was a breathless pause. Cisco inhaled a big, shaky breath, and started to laugh. It was wet and hysterical and bitter, but it was a laugh, and the only voiced thing in the casino pit for a long few seconds.

“We took his brother to make sure nothing went sideways on us, and do you know what he called Cisco?” Len said, his voice dropping down to a silky drawl again.

“I, uh—Cisco,” Barry said. “Isn’t that…”

“No. God. Idiot. You don’t need to know what it was. But rest assured, it was the _wrong name,”_ Len said. “He seemed to have things a little—how can I put this politely—backwards? Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He gestured to Cisco. “He’s not safe at home. And _fuck you_ for not knowing that. He’s _your_ damsel in distress, your handsome little sidekick tied up at the eleventh hour for you to come rescue, and you can’t keep him safe from his _own fucking family—“_

“I didn’t know,” Barry said. For the first time, Cisco watched the Flash take a step back. “I didn’t know. Cisco? You didn’t tell me.”

“He shouldn’t _have to,”_ Len snapped. “Wasn’t it _obvious?_ Because it’s obvious to _us!_ Obvious enough that I knew I had to come and take him away from the likes of _you,_ because you don’t _deserve him! You can’t even protect him!”_

It was silent. Len was shaking. All save his finger on the trigger, which did not waver.

“He’s ours now,” Len said. “We’re going to keep him safe. We’re going to protect him, and we’re going to make sure he never has to feel scared, or alone ever again. Because that’s what you _do_ for the people you _love._ I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out by now.”

Cisco opened and closed his mouth. Barry shook his head. “It’s—it’s not that—I just—that’s not fair, I—I really do—“

“Enough,” Mick said, and put his finger back on the trigger. Everyone present froze.

“Mick and I,” Len said, “will kill everyone here if you do not stand aside and let us go.”

“You wouldn’t,” Cisco said, his voice soft. “You wouldn’t, please, you wouldn’t—“

“If they don’t, I will,” Lisa said, drawing her gun. “And we’re taking Cisco, asshole. You can’t have him back.”

“I’m not just gonna let you stand here and take my best friend—“ Barry began, and Cisco closed his eyes, trembling. Lisa drew her gun on him.

“If he’s your best friend, you should’ve looked after him better,” she said, marching over the corpse and hefting Cisco around the waist. The flames had died down, but there was still blood on her boots, squelching down charred fat. “Bye, jerk. Don’t come looking for us!”

Lisa waved with her free hand on the way out, helping Cisco out like he was stumbling home after too many drinks rather than ashen and trembling, trying with all his might not to look at the dead body the four of them left smoking on the floor.


	3. Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco makes a big mistake. Len kinda, sorta, almost keeps his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sentient lightning stuff is still the most ridiculous thing, bye.  
> Also: oh my god, I am so sorry? I apparently double posted a chapter and didn't notice because of the thanksgiving break. my sincerest apologies guys!

The second Cisco got in the van he started to scream, throwing himself against the side of the van and hiding his face in his arms, heaving and weeping. There was a flutter of exchanged conversation, and then someone prying his arms away from his face, pushing a glass against his lips.

“Drink, _hijo_ ,” Mick insisted, tipping the liquor into his throat. It crackled and burned going down, but it swept away the taste of bile. Cisco licked his lips, sobbing, trying to shove Mick away and grab more liquor at the same time. Mick smiled. “There you go. That’s it. S’just like being on a boat, probably. Takes some getting used to.”

“There’s no such thing as getting your murder legs, Mick,” Len said, starting the car and peeling out of the lot. Mick snorted.

“Wasn’t murder,” he said, gently slapping Cisco on the cheek. “Just paying the bastard back double for what he did to our kid. Cisco? Cisco. Can you look at me right now?”

“No,” Cisco said, trying to hide his face again. Mick lifted his hands from Cisco’s wrists.

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry. You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you,” Mick promised, and he believed it so much that Cisco wanted to scream. He settled instead for pressing his cheek against the cool van wall.

“Threw up through my nose,” he mumbled. “S’gross.”

“Yeah, you didn’t know you could do that? S’cause your nose and your throat are connected,” Lisa said, slumping down next to him and letting Mick sit next to Len up front. “Don’t worry. One time daddy punched Lenny so hard in the stomach he barfed all over my new skates, and I had to clean them up ‘cause we’d made a mess. It was super gross.”

Cisco’s expression didn’t change, but something in his chest grabbed hard and squeezed. Lisa beamed. “Lenny got me a new pair the next day, and they were even prettier.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. Lisa sat next to him. “You not talking?”

He nodded again. Lisa clucked her tongue. “Ohhh. Okay. You’re not looking at me either. Are you doing that thing Mick does?”

Cisco quirked his head just slightly, pulling himself in tighter. Lisa nodded. “Yeah, that thing he does where he doesn’t say anything for ages and doesn’t look me or Lenny in the eye and gets all, you know. Nonverbal.”

“See? It’s perfect he’s here,” Len said, pulling casually into traffic. “He’s like us.”

“Fucked up and broken,” Lisa said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

“No,” Cisco mumbled, lifting his head just a little. Lisa blinked.

“You’re not fucked up and broken?”

“No,” Cisco said, a little clearer, “you’re not.”

Lisa beamed. She didn’t come too close and let him sit and come down normally, but she did lay down on her stomach in the back of the van and hold her arm out, her fingertips just brushing the edge of his foot. Slowly, slowly, he reached his hand down to press his fingertips against hers, where they remained for the rest of the car ride.

…

“The shower’s upstairs, but don’t get comfy, I don’t think we’re staying much longer,” Len said. “I promised Hartley we’d be out soon.”

“Where’re we going?” Lisa asked, nudging Cisco up the steps. Len shrugged.

“Dunno. Go to ground for a bit, Lis. Let the Flash run himself ragged,” he said. “Eventually he’ll give up on Cisco, and we’re home free.”

“No,” Cisco mumbled, shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, his mind a jumbled mess, his lips forming words of their own accord as he shook and cried. “No, no. Barry wouldn’t give up on me.”

There was a beat. Cisco had a second before his stomach plummeted and he felt the word in the air, the name hanging like a noose in front of him. Len beamed, big and wide and wicked.

“ _Barry,”_ he said. “Oh, my.”

“No,” Cisco said. “No, no, no—he’s got nothing to do with this—“

“Barry,” Len said, turning to Mick. “Do we know a Barry, sweetheart?”

“Nah,” Mick said, shrugging, head cocked slightly. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Still. Not exactly a common name, Barry…Lis? Do you know him?”

“Leave him _alone_ ,” Cisco begged. “Please, please, please—he didn’t _do anything_ —“

“He stood by while your family made you feel like shit and didn’t do a god damn thing,” Len said, taking a step closer, his shoulders tight. “For the fastest man alive, he sure isn’t quick on the uptake when someone who loves him so much is suffering.”

Cisco’s chest was burning, his stomach sour. “Len, please—“

“Lis? Go get Cisco into the shower,” Len said. “He’s absolutely out of his mind right now. Can’t say I blame him. Got a little sick the first time I saw a man die in front of me too.”

He reached out and stroked Cisco’s hair, fond and forgiving. “It’s all right. You did just fine. We were going to have to get rid of him to run this town anyway.”

“ _Please,”_ Cisco said, tears running down his face. “Please, _please_ don’t hurt him. Please, Len. Promise me.”

“I can’t do that,” Len said, rubbing some of his tears away with his thumb. Cisco shook his head and turned away.

“You have to _promise,”_ he said. “He didn’t do anything _wrong,_ he just—he didn’t know! He didn’t _know_ , because I never _told him,_ and I—I—“

Len hushed him, cupping his cheeks and tilting his chin up. “Francisco, darling. Does he mean that much to you?”

“I—it—I—“ Cisco blinked back tears. “Please. Don’t let it be my fault he gets hurt. I—I couldn’t—I couldn’t live with myself if I—“

“Ssh,” Len hushed him. “Ssh, ssh, you’re beside yourself. Lis, take him and go. Mick and I need to talk—“

 _“Promise me!”_ Cisco screamed, grabbing Len’s shirt in his fists, his hands shaking so hard his grip almost slipped. Len held his hands up.

“All right,” he said. “All right. I promise you it won’t be because of anything you said that I find the Flash. I promise. Now go, before you throw up through your nose on us again.”

Cisco managed a small laugh, wiping at his eyes and nodding, letting Lisa hook her arm through his and lead him up the stairs. Len waited, waited longer still, counting off seconds until he heard the water start from upstairs.

“Barry,” he said. “Someone Cisco knows. Someone he’s close with. Someone with a science background, presumably?”

“Maybe they both work at STAR labs,” Mick said. “I mean shit, they’d have to, huh?”

“Well, there’s not that many employees left,” Len said, making a face. “I’ll do some digging on the computer. While I do, start packing. We leave at dawn.”

“We’re leaving that early?” Mick said. Len nodded.

“Safer,” he said, opening up the laptop. “Once we go to ground, we’re going deep this time.”

“Sure that’s the best idea?” Mick said. “We did just leave a spot open for ourselves with the good Don’s death, after all.”

“If I run this town—and I will, soon, run this town—it will be because I am the smartest fucking con man in this city, with the most loyal, powerful husband, not because I’m a damn opportunist,” Len said, letting Mick lean down and nuzzle his cheek, pecking his stubble. “And that won’t change because we need to spend six months watching Disney VHSes and eating rations.”

“Ugh,” Mick said. “No more takeout. Fuck me.”

“Maybe Cisco knows how to cook,” Len mused, going through the STAR Labs site.

“He’s coming with us?”

Len cocked his head, scrolling through pictures in the ‘About Us’ section. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Lenny,” Mick said, frowning and throwing his jacket into a duffel, “maybe he doesn’t want to.”

“Of course he wants to, he’s family now.”

“You kinda gotta ask someone if they wanna be family, Lenny,” Mick said. “I get it. You’re worried. I am too. ‘Specially since he’s head over heels for that crimson son of a bitch.”

“No he’s not, he’s in love with my sister. He had _better_ be.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re committed, ‘cause normally we have the opposite of this kinda problem,” Mick said, sitting next to him. “I think he is! Maybe. Fuck, I dunno. I’m not good with this shit. But the point is, he’s torn. Y’know. Like…”

Mick made a vague hand gesture. “Speaking of Disney VHSes, remember when the Beast let Belle go because her dad was in danger? Because he loved her so much? And he knew he’d never feel secure in their relationship unless he let her make the choice to come back on her own?”

“I didn’t think you paid attention to the movie,” Len said, brows raised.

“Hey, I’m only giving you a handjob under the blankets _some_ of the time when we watch this shit, give me some credit.”

They cracked a shared grin as Len accessed a STAR Labs employee login page. He frowned. “Cisco probably has an account here.”

“Well, try using his name for the login, these places don’t have fancy usernames,” Mick said.

“Fair, but what’s his password?” Len poked the tip of his tongue out and hummed, deep in thought. “He’s a clever boy, our Cisco. Can’t be something like ‘password.’ And he’s not so soppy it’d be something like Barry or the Flash.”

“Gundam00.”

“What?”

“It was on his shirt,” Mick said. “Some anime shit. Look, it can’t fuckin’ hurt to try!”

Len typed it in and was greeted by a loading page, and a list of new options to rifle through. He beamed. “Well well. Thank you, Mick.”

He checked the employment records and scrolled down, hitting ‘ctrl+f’ and searching for Barry. Three options came up, and only one of them listed in the Science Department.

“Well,” Len said, clicking on ‘Barry Allen,’ “I think we found our man.”

“Hey, I remember him!” Mick said. “That’s the kid that got struck by lightning last year! It was on the news for ages!”

“It’s definitely important when a white kid gets struck by lightning,” Len said, his voice dry. “Anyway, wasn’t he in a coma?”

“Comas don’t have to last forever,” Mick said. “And besides, remember what I said while I was reading the newspaper that morning?”

“Can’t, was too busy sucking your dick at the time,” Len drawled, leaning against him. Mick snorted.

“No you weren’t, asshole, ‘cause I’d remember if you were,” he said, reaching out and rubbing the nape of Len’s neck gently. “I said, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t it be cool shit to get struck by lightning and get superpowers?’”

There was a long silence.

“The Flash,” Len said, with an air of grim finality, “has a lightning bolt on his suit.”

Another silence—this one somehow longer, heavier.

“You know, I _do_ remember when you read that article,” Len said, “and _I_ said, ‘Mick, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, lightning doesn’t fucking choose a person and give them superpowers,’ and I stand by what I said, but I admit; Mick, you were right. The egg is on my face, I suppose.”

There was a pause.

“It really is still the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Mick said.

“Oh, absolutely,” Len agreed. “The point is; the bolt of lightning chose some idiot who doesn’t realize the sweetest goddamn kid in the universe is in love with him, and so the bolt of lightning is also an idiot.”

“We agree the bolt of lightning is sentient?”

“Mick, when you say that, I literally want to die.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

“Holy fuck. Okay, fine,” Len said. “Barry Allen. Idiot boy. He’s the Flash.”

“So, we go kill him,” Mick said.

“Can’t kill him,” Len said, making a face. “We did promise Cisco.”

“You did, I didn’t.”

“And that’s fair, but that’s not how a good person like him would see it. You know he’d just get upset,” Len said. “We didn’t promise we wouldn’t beat him to within an inch of his life.”

“Yeah. Hard to measure that shit, though.”

“We’ll bring a ruler to beat him with,” Len said. “Look. We’re not _going_ to do anything. Yet. We’re going to sit on this knowledge. And if we need to use it, we use it. Could threaten to go public with it, buy ourselves immunity, threaten his family, whatever—“

“You’d never actually go through with that last one.”

“ _You_ know that. He doesn’t,” Len said. “Point is, we’ve got a name, we’re home free. No need to play our ace in the hole so soon.”

“All right,” Mick said, leaning over and kissing him. “So. You up for another fuck on the kitchen counter before we leave?”

“You absolutely know it.”

Mick, grinning, hefted Len up into his arms, letting him hook his legs around his waist as he carried him off.

The luggage remained, half-packed, forgotten.


	4. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa starts to have second thoughts about taking Cisco along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's explicit sex in this chapter, just so you're prepared! Also, next chapter will be a little shorter because I didn't want a dozen things to happen at once, so I may re-update this on Friday to compensate. Thank you for reading, everybody!

Lisa sat Cisco down on the toilet, started up the shower, and turned to him. Cisco sat, staring at the shower, the water pounding on marble tiling, running down into the drain. Lisa waited for a minute, then without having to be asked, turned the water off.

“We can wait,” she promised, and they did. They waited there together for a few minutes while he took deep breaths and played with his hair, bringing himself down to normal as he fiddled and fidgeted his way off the precipice of a breakdown.

“Do you want me to leave while you get undressed, or…” Lisa trailed off as Cisco stood up and shrugged off his jacket, lifting off his shirt.

“I was gonna undress with you when we went home the first time, probably,” Cisco said. “You might as well see the scars.”

There was a beat.

“They look pretty cool, actually. Wanna see?”

“Sure, yeah!” Lisa said, taking off her jacket. “You should see my stretch marks where my tits grew in, they look like lightning bolts and they’re _sick.”_

They looked at each other for a long second before grinning in unison, helping the other undress to the waist. Lisa’s hands hovered over his chest. “Can I touch?”

“Yeah, sure, scratch a little, the scars itch sometimes,” Cisco said, arching his back up and letting her run her thumbs over his scars, her eyes wide with wonder as she devoured him, openmouthed and beaming. He couldn’t help but smile back. Part of him wondered—did he always smile like this? Or was it just her who made him grin, helpless, putting his hands on her hips in a daze. He inched them up slowly, head cocked.

“Oh _touch_ them, Cisco, it’s all right,” Lisa said, and then she was on him, kissing him openmouthed, making him kiss back before he even realized she was in his lap, straddling him as his fingers stroked her breasts, heavy and gentle with warmth and wonder.

“Oh man,” Cisco said as she broke the kiss to wind his hair in her hand, pulling his head back to kiss his throat. “This is—this is—wow. Your breasts are—are, you know. Wow.”

“You’re so silly,” Lisa sighed, grinning again. “You feel so good, though. Can I keep touching you?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to shower?”

“Well,” Lisa offered, “ _we_ can shower, sure.”

Cisco swallowed. Lisa cocked her head. “Cisco? I was just teasing. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry. It was dumb, I know it’s weird and gross and—“

“Stop,” Cisco said, his voice hoarse, his hands rubbing her thighs, fumbling at the catch on her pants, sliding them down and pushing her gently off his lap, standing her up so he could slid her pants off, his heart hammering. “No no no. Don’t say that. You’re so beautiful, and I’m gonna—I’m gonna kiss you now.”

She nodded, trembling just a little, her breath hitching as he mouthed and kissed her panties, sucking on the black silk and nuzzling against it, mumbling, “Oh my god. Sorry, sorry—I’m totally not this person, I’m really not a one night stand kind of—“

“Me neither, Cisco,” Lisa said, and the catch in her voice made his chest flutter. “But it’s real nice, what you’re doing right now.”

“Cool,” Cisco said, licking his lips. “Maybe I could just—could I—“

“Please?” Lisa said, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Please, Cisco.”

“Okay,” he said, swallowing and pulling down her panties, marveling over how they slid down her smooth, pale skin, “okay.”

He took his time, kissing her inner thighs before swallowing her cock down, licking at her and relaxing his throat to breathe her in, stroking Lisa’s thighs and reaching one hand up to grasp at her ass and hold her steady. Lisa moaned, muffling it into her hand, stifling her sighs of pleasure. Cisco looked up at her, watching her stomach shudder and tighten, spasming as her hips bucked against his cheeks, surrounding her with her scent, her flesh.

He pulled away slowly with a pleased moan, kissing her inner thighs. “You’re so gorgeous, Lisa. God, you’re _beautiful.”_

“Thank you,” she said, her voice tiny and delicate. “Cisco?”

“Yeah?” he said, stroking the soft skin between her legs, making her shiver and moan.

“Nothin’,” she said, “just like saying your name. Feels good and warm in my mouth.”

Cisco nodded, hooking one leg over his shoulder so he could take her cock in better, kissing and nipping down the smooth expanse of her thigh, creamy and firm with muscle, shifting and bunching as she tried to force herself upward into his kisses.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, still stroking between her legs. “Your cock’s so wet for me, baby girl, I’m so glad. I love getting to see you like this, all needy and slick. You want this, don’t you? Want me to take you all in and make you come?”

He didn’t know where those words were coming from. Someone else was saying them. Must be. But it was his name Lisa moaned as she begged, “Cisco, _please…”_

He sucked her down and let her hand in his hair guide the pace, relaxing his throat and letting her do most of the work as she ground against his mouth, needy and whining and panting, loud and desperate, moaning louder still when Cisco picked up a rhythm of stroking her thighs in time with her thrusts into his mouth.

“Cisco,” Lisa said, “can I come? Please? I wanna come so bad—“

Cisco nodded, and Lisa moaned, high-pitched and keening, her whole body stilling save for the powerful flex of her thighs as she rolled them up, her hips tight with orgasm that crashed through her body like a wave, spilling out into Cisco’s mouth. He swallowed her down, sucking every bit of her clean and letting her go long after she’d gone soft in his throat.

Lisa looked down at him as he licked his lips, come trickling over them, and he looked up at her, head cocked slightly, jaw sore. She was smiling, but she was crying too, and his head was swimming with her orgasm, so his words were heavy and useless. He settled for nuzzling her thigh instead, letting her stroke his hair.

“You’re the prettiest girl I know,” Cisco finally said, realizing two things at once—one, he was slick with pre-come and his body was hot with need, and two, Lisa seemed more interested in hefting him up into the shower. He whined. Lisa laughed, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Ssh, dummy,” she said, “it’s okay. Don’t worry. You’re gonna be all right.”

“Today has been _fucked up,”_ Cisco said, leaning against the shower wall, eyes half-closed. Lisa laughed, nudging his thighs open with her leg and turning the shower back on, letting the water pour over them both.

“A little,” she admitted. “Kind of a wild ride. But it’s nice! I finally got to meet you, and…and I really like you, and…and you’re, you know. This is good?”

“This is so good,” Cisco sighed, letting her lather shampoo in his hair, tilting his head into her touch. “M’sorry. Kinda dazed right now. I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Adrenaline high, happens sometimes,” Lisa said. “You’re just crashing. That’s why I wanted you to get away from Lenny and Mick for a bit. They’re, you know.”

“Intense,” Cisco sighed. “Fire n’ice. Not you, though. You’re the sun.”

“That’s so sweet,” Lisa said, washing the suds out of his hair, water sliding between their skin and making their caresses slick and easy. “What does that make you?”

“Don’t know,” Cisco said. “Moon?”

“The moon is nice,” Lisa agreed. “You with me?”

“Tired,” Cisco sighed. “Tired and horny.”

“Well, you did eat me out,” Lisa said with a laugh. “Can I touch you?”

He nodded. She uncapped the conditioner, dumped a generous amount into her palm, and then worked it through his hair until it was slick and slid through her fingers with ease. “Well. That’s gotta sit and deep condition those gorgeous locks of yours, so we’ve got a few minutes.”

“Make ‘em count,” Cisco agreed, lifting his leg up so Lisa could hook it over her shoulder, her palm kneading between his legs and making him shudder and moan.

“Wow,” Lisa said, dragging her thumb up his lips and rubbing it around in slow circles, “your clit is so hard for me already, Cisco!”

He nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder. “S’easy. You’re so pretty.”

“Still,” Lisa cooed, rubbing her fingers hard over the swollen tip. “Your clit’s all wet and hard for me, and you’re messy and leaking down your thighs. Gonna come all messy in my hand, baby?”

Cisco nodded, arching his hips up and into her touch, the water sliding between their bodies and gathering in the space where his thigh pressed against his skin, hoisted up high so Lisa could finger him with ease. She stroked and pinched and rubbed, kneading him with the heel of her palm as he moaned and shook, kissing her neck and breathing her in.

When he came, it was with a full-body shudder, biting at her neck and murmuring her name against her skin, nuzzling against her and clinging close, his fingers digging into her shoulder like he wanted to melt against her, make himself a part of her. Lisa wrapped her free hand around his waist and pulled him even closer, squeezing tight.

“You’re so good,” she murmured. “Such a good boy. I’m right here, it’s okay.”

“You were protecting me,” Cisco mumbled, his eyes mostly closed. “M’sorry. I must’ve looked so ungrateful. Tell Mick m’sorry.”

Lisa laughed, leaning over and turning the shower off. “I’ll tell him. C’mon, champ. Let’s go crash.”

“ _Mi vida,”_ Cisco sighed, letting her lead him out of the shower. They walked down the hall together hand in hand, drip-drying all over the expensive carpeting. Lisa opened the door and let him flop down on the master bed, rolling over the sheets and wrapping himself in a blanket burrito, grinning. She climbed on the bed and looked down at him, and he smiled wider. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Lisa said, twirling some of his wet hair around her fingers. “You okay if I leave the TV on? I can’t sleep without it.”

“S’alright,” Cisco yawned. “Lisa? Don’t go. I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m afraid of what I’ll see, and—“

“Ssh, I get it, it’s okay,” Lisa promised. “Wasn’t gonna go anywhere. This isn’t exactly a wham-bam-thank you-ma’am sorta deal. But I am gonna stay up, ‘cause if I go to bed with wet hair, I _will_ die.”

“I know, not what I meant,” Cisco yawned. “Don’t laugh at me if I have nightmares.”

“I won’t,” Lisa said, rubbing his shoulder. “Gimme some of those blankets, though.”

He rolled back over and let his blanket burrito unravel so she could scoot underneath next to him. He laid his head on her thigh as she sat up and grabbed the remote, turning on the television that took up most of the wall in front of them.

There was a thud. Cisco lifted his head, making a confused noise. Lisa tutted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Hartley let us borrow the house on the condition that at least one of us gets fucked in his parents’ bedroom. Petty, but from what I hear, they earned it.”

Cisco made another, less confused noise, and laid his head back down. “You’re so warm. You said Mick was the space heater, but I feel so nice here. You’re so good.”

He turned and nuzzled his cheek against her skin, mumbling something. Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Cisco? What was that?”

She didn’t get an answer. He was already asleep, his breath warm and damp on her thigh. Lisa clucked her tongue and reached down to tousle his wet hair, spreading it out over the pillow so it could dry.

For a little while, she channel surfed, until her mindless network hopping had her stopping on the news just long enough to catch a glimpse of Don Santini’s charred corpse, albeit from the viewpoint of a blurry phone camera. Her heart lurched and her throat tightened, and she frantically mashed channel buttons until settling on a cartoon.

“Fuck,” she murmured to no one in particular. “Fuck me.”

 _But it’s not_ you _who’s going to suffer from this,_ a tiny, traitorous voice spoke up from deep inside her, _it’s Cisco,_ mi vida.

“Fuck you,” Lisa said, grasping the blankets over Cisco’s sleeping form. “I’m gonna protect him. You’ll see. When it comes to protection, I learned from the best.”

The big words were no match for the vast darkness, crumpling under the pressure of its heavy, huge cloak and being smothered into silence. Lisa lowered the volume on the television and laid down next to Cisco, watching him sleep.

“ _Mi vida,”_ she mumbled. “What does that even _mean?”_

She pulled the blankets up a little more when he shivered. “In any case, you said it so nice, and that means I don’t deserve it, Cisco. I’m a monster.”

“No,” Cisco muttered, and Lisa’s heart lurched. She reached out a trembling hand and cupped his cheek.

“Cisco?” she whispered. “Cisco, I—“

“ _No,”_ Cisco whimpered, twisting under the covers, turning his face away, “no, no, don’t kill him—don’t— _no—“_

Lisa knew the right thing to do was to wake him, reassure him he was safe, and sound, and protected, and he never had to be afraid again. That was what she had promised.

But since she could deliver on absolutely none of those promises, she let him sleep, thrashing and moaning in the grip of a nightmare, staring out the window and turning the volume up on the television when his cries got louder.

Lisa didn’t sleep that night.


	5. Pre Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A turning point. An exchange of numbers. And a big mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short, I'm sorry, but this also marks a huge turning point in the direction of the fic, so please understand! Thank you for your patience!

Cisco pulled himself out of the clinging, thin webs of a nightmare that morning, the third time he could remember seeing the corpse bubble and burn and expand into a dripping, hateful mass that screamed his name in Lisa’s voice—

No, wasn’t him. Someone’s hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. His eyes hurt, still screwed shut with exhaustion, heavy and bitter. Still, that scent was familiar, the feel of skin.

“Lisa?” he mumbled, his throat dry. There was a hush, a shushing noise as she tucked his hair behind his ears, winding it between her fingers. He opened his eyes by degrees, until he could see her in the pale light of pre-dawn, her hair gleaming and her tears illuminated by the hesitant sun, shining silver on her face.

“My Cisco,” she said, and her voice trembled. Cisco smiled, sleepy and vague.

“ _Mi vida,”_ he yawned. “We leaving already?”

There was a pause, heavy with a thousand things that Cisco, clever and having honed his skill on interpreting these sort of pauses from disapproving parents, would have been able to piece together in an instant, had he been fully awake. As it was, he just cocked his head, waiting for her to tell him.

“No,” Lisa said, “but you are.”

That woke him up, jolting him out of the last of his exhaustion. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Lis? I don’t understand—“

“I do,” Lisa said, trying to blink back tears and succeeding only in making more slide down her face. “Oh, god, Cisco. You’re so good.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight, trying not to think about how this would be the last time. “Do you remember _Beauty and the Beast?”_

“What does that have to do with _anything?”_

Lisa pulled away by degrees and made herself cup his cheeks. His eyes were shining with hurt and confusion, tears spread tight over their surfaces like a funeral shroud. She hung her head, her eyelashes fluttering, tears glimmering on the edges.

“This is the part in the story where the monster lets their true love go. So—so maybe someday they’ll return,” she whispered.  “And even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter, because the monster is—the monster is bad. But not so bad, not so cruel, that they would keep the person they loved held against their will, away from everyone _they_ love.”

Cisco’s hands reached up to grasp her wrists, shaking. He was shaking his head and mouthing his refusal, and she loved him for that. Still, she remembered how he had been begging the same thing in the darkness last night, and so her resolve held firm.

“I’m a monster, Cisco,” she said. “You can gild me in gold all you want, but I’ll still have the same claws and teeth. And I—I need you to go.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Cisco insisted. “This is so _dumb,_ Lisa, there’s no reason for you to push me away, I’m not _mad_ about before! I don’t blame you, I’m not upset— _“_

“No, but you’re in _danger!”_ Lisa snapped. Cisco fell silent. Lisa closed her eyes and drew strength from that gnarled, hideous place in her chest that had grown around her heart, all claws and teeth chattering in her father’s voice, and wicked thorns.

“Go,” she said. “Go back to him. To that red fucking idiot who can’t keep you safe either, but at least—at least he won’t—won’t poison you with his touch. Go back to him and let him be kind to you.”

“No,” Cisco said, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving.”

Lisa smiled through her tears. “Idiot. Yes, you are. Before you get in too deep.”

“I—I won’t,” Cisco insisted. “I’m not scared of you!”

“Oh, but Cisco,” Lisa sighed, “I am.”

She turned away from him and opened the window. “There’s a ladder propped outside in case we had to leave in the middle of the night. Can’t ever be too careful. Can’t—can’t ever feel safe.”

“I’m—not— _going!_ “

“Cisco,” Lisa said, still not looking at him, “if you come back to me, then I’ll know you mean it. That I’m not just some evil monster kidnapping someone to take them prisoner and force love out of them. But I can’t ever trust that as long as this is how we met. How you came to stay with us.”

There was a long silence. The room had started to lighten up with the dawn giving way to new light, the sky starting to darken from pre-dawn greys and turn gold and red and pink, the sun shimmering on the edge of the horizon. Lisa turned away when she could hear Cisco getting dressed, pulling his shoes on.

That was that, then. He was going to turn around and leave, and she was going to let him. Maybe she’d never see him again, even. It’d be just what she deserved, and wouldn’t that be something?”

“Lisa?”

His voice had her shuddering as she turned. “Yes?”

“Here,” he said, taking her hand and making her start, blinking, as he pulled a pen from his pocket, scrawling a series of numbers across her pale hand with a steady hand, dragging the felt tip slowly across her skin. “This is my number. If—if you get in trouble, call me.”

“Don’t we usually exchange numbers _before_ the one night stand, and not after?” Lisa said, her voice shaking. Cisco made a face.

“Well, don’t worry, because this isn’t a one night stand, okay?” he said, squeezing her hand. “So don’t forget my number.”

Lisa shook her head. It wasn’t a yes or a no, and Cisco didn’t ask further.

“I’ll come back,” he promised as he walked past her, climbing out the window. “Remember? I’m not a one night stand kinda guy. I’ll—I—“

Lisa nodded, murmuring, “I know, I know, I know,” even as she turned away and went for the door, leaving him behind. It was only when he heard the lock click shut that he climbed down the rest of the way, stumbling away from the house and out onto the street, blinking in the shining rays of the dawn, so bright that when he looked up to try to see Lisa one last time, he was blinded.


	6. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry fusses. Cisco and Iris have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Cisco and Iris together, they are so good and fun and pure? My true platonic ideal. Also, sorry, this chapter is also short because the next chapter switches POVs and I didn't want to jerk it around too much. Please enjoy anyway!!

Cisco found a bench after wandering around in a daze, sitting down and calling Barry. He’d barely said, “Barry, I’m—“ before Barry had zipped up to his location and grabbed him, hugging him so tight that the dam of tears burst and he was sobbing, clinging to Barry and weeping with abandon. Barry blinked, brow furrowed, stroking Cisco’s hair.

“Buddy?” he said, “hey, what’s the matter?”

Cisco opened his mouth to try to explain, and an incoherent jumble of words fell out instead. Somewhere between explaining, “I’m not a one night stand, Barry, I’m _not_ —“ Barry shook his head and hushed him.

“Explain later,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

 _“No,”_ Cisco screamed, fisting his hands in Barry’s shirt. “ _No, no, no—“_

He paused, head cocked, playing Len’s words from yesterday back in his head. Guilt seethed in his chest and he screwed his eyes shut.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. Okay. But then you’re coming back to my house.”

Before Cisco could argue, Barry was hefting Cisco up and holding onto him tight. “Don’t move, okay? I think you’ll be fine if I carry you, but, you know—“

Cisco clung to him tight, his eyes screwed shut, as Barry soared through the streets and into the city. He didn’t open his eyes again until they were standing in a bedroom plastered wall to wall with pull-out posters from National Geographic, charts of the constellations, anatomical maps, and occasional pictures of kittens. Cisco grinned, rubbing at his eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“You knew it was my room?”

“Who else would put this crap on their wall, Barry?” Cisco said. Barry grinned, and Cisco’s stomach fluttered.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “Go back to sleep, okay? We were all so worried about you. I’m—I’m just really glad you’re safe, Cisco. I was so, so scared.”

Cisco nodded, opening his mouth to explain things further as he flopped down on the bed, but before he could figure out how to tell Barry everything that happened, he was asleep.

When he woke up again, the sun was streaming through the window and there was a plate of toast and orange juice on the nightstand near the bed. Cisco rolled over and tugged the piece of paper under the glass out carefully, opening it up.

“Cisco, it’s me, Barry! I went to STAR Labs to let everyone know you were okay. Doctor Wells probably won’t want you to come in, because you need a break. Joe and Iris are home to keep an eye on you, okay? I’ll be back ASAP! –Barry.”

Cisco closed his eyes and grinned. “I know it’s you, idiot…”

He tucked the letter under the pillow and flopped back down to sleep for awhile longer.

He woke up for a third time to Iris sitting at Barry’s computer chair, typing at her laptop. She waved at him, still looking at the screen. “Hey, Cisco. Good to see you’re awake.”

“Um, hi,” he yawned. “Iris? What are you doing here?”

“What? Oh, I can work from home on this article, so I told Barry I’d stay with you,” Iris said, pushing away from Barry’s desk. “He was so _worried,_ you know? _Fussing._ It’s so weird to see him _fuss.”_

Cisco nodded, sitting up and stretching out. His scars ached. He pretended he could still feel Lisa’s touch on the scars, and they throbbed with pain in response. Iris cocked her head. “Cisco? Something wrong?”

“You ever been in love with someone who, you know,” Cisco babbled, the words spilling out of him without a second’s hesitation, “you love a lot, and they probably love you, maybe? But they’re doing something they say is for your own good even though it _really fucking hurts?”_

Iris leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Tell me about it.”

They shared a smile. Iris tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know things have been difficult for you lately. Well, I mean—I don’t know about all of it. The stress you’ve been under at home, and trying to transition safely during all that…it’s not a good time for romance, is it?”

“No,” Cisco sighed. “I still feel awful and gross and my skin feels stretched-out and thin and—it’s weird, and I was doing my best to deal, because this is what I _wanted,_ and I’m _happy—_ but I’m nervous, too. I feel like, you know when you bring a new pet home and you gotta show it every room in the house one by one? I feel like that, but with my own body. Rediscovering it one piece at a time.”

He rubbed the side of his face. “Sorry. This is dumb. I don’t expect you to talk about it, it’s just—I thought—Lisa and I could’ve—“

Her name still felt so good and right and soft in his throat, and that was what made him retch, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. Iris got up, climbing on the bed next to him. “Cisco?”

“I—I’m sorry,” Cisco said, looking away, “I shouldn’t—I just, it’s really, really dumb—“

“You’re not dumb,” Iris said, her voice firm. “Don’t apologize. From what Barry told me, you had a hell of a day.”

“I really liked her,” Cisco said, “a lot, and I think I liked her more than she likes herself, and I—I screwed up. I fucked this all up, Iris, I—“

“Cisco,” Iris said, “you have to give her space.”

He fell silent. She sighed. “It’s tough, not thinking you’re a good person. And next to you, I mean…you’re _so_ good. You’re so _sweet._ You’d be the perfect boyfriend.”

“Um,” Cisco said, and she grinned.

“Relax, I have a girlfriend, and we’re very happy,” she said, “and you’re not my type.”

“Because I’m trans.” Cisco sighed. “You know, sometimes I don’t _feel_ like anyone’s type. I just feel like a fucking fetish.”

Iris worried at her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—“

“No, I’m sorry! I just—“ Cisco threw up his hands. “Iris? I felt really safe with her. And she understood. And she liked me. And she had the most amazing smile, and she didn’t see it at all. Didn’t see how _determined_ she was, how sweet and pretty and fun, and—and I wanted to show her! But she just wanted to see herself like she was a monster, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t make her see anything different.”

For awhile, they just sat together on the bed. Iris didn’t say anything as he pulled himself back together, winding his hair around his fingertips and breathing slow, deep, and measured.

“You know, Cisco,” Iris said, “you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. If she wants to see something other than a monster in herself, then that’s gotta start with her, you know?”

“But—I should be there,” Cisco said, “I should be there to help her. She shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“And she won’t always have to,” Iris said. “But give yourself a break. And take some time to think about this, maybe?”

“Easy for you to say,” Cisco groused, “you’re in a stable, loving, happy relationship.”

“Yeah, I know,” Iris said, grinning. “But you’re gonna end up the same way, Cisco. You’re too cute and sweet not to.”

He smiled and stretched out in bed, asking her, “Hey, tell me about what you’re working on lately?”

He listened to her talk about her latest articles and her search for the Flash, and didn’t say, _I don’t want ‘a relationship.’ I just want to see Lisa again._ He didn’t want to look ungrateful. All the same, it was nice when she went downstairs, promising to grab them lunch and call Barry, and he could have a few minutes to himself, burying his face into Barry’s pillow and trying not to think about how it smelled like him, like ozone and coffee. Which he managed, if only by thinking of Lisa’s golden grin and wanting to suffocate himself in the pillow.


	7. Bickering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Lisa have a fight. Mick is used to it, though, and they work things out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry about the weeklong delay, the holidays just straight up consumed me and I got super busy. Thanks for your patience and enjoy!  
> TBH, I really like this chapter? It's nice to see Len and Lisa and how they both deal with grief and having a fight and everything. Mostly I just like the Snart fam, Mick included.

After Cisco left, Lisa made the bed, folded up her clothes, packed them away, put all her makeup in her bags, brushed her hair, tucked it into a low bun to keep it out of her face, pulled her boots on, got up, headed for the door, and had almost twisted the doorknob all the way before she laid her face against the cool mahogany and started to sob.

She cried and cried until her face felt swollen and puffy and her eyes itched, dry on the insides and tear-soaked along her lashes, snot clogging her nose and making it hard to breathe as she mouthed over and over, “ _Mi vida, mi vida, mi vida…”_

She still didn’t know what it meant. But when she said it, it felt like kissing Cisco, like winding his hair around her fingertips and feeling him melt against her. Maybe someday she’d get to ask.

For now. For now. Oh, god. Now she had to go tell Len and Mick that—

“Hey, kiddo,” Mick said, pushing the door open before she could scramble to hold it shut. “Wake up your lovebird and let’s hustle, Lenny picked a safehouse outta Central City so we can get some space and get Cisco away from his family for a bit, and—“

Lisa wailed, burying her face into Mick’s chest and sobbing, her chest heaving as she clung to Mick’s jacket, tears staining it and snot making his shirt sticky. He rubbed her back, his huge hand flexing over her shoulders as he frowned with concern. “Lis? What’s the matter? Everything okay?”

“ _No,”_ Lisa sobbed, digging her fists into his jacket, tightening her grip, “no no _no,_ _mi vida, mi_ vida—“

A heavy clomping noise rang in the hallway as Len scrambled up the stairs. “Lisa? Lis? Mick, what’s wrong, what’s the matter—“

“I dunno,” Mick said, gesturing with his free hand, still holding Lisa with the other, “I asked her about Cisco and she started crying, and I—“

“Oh, god,” Len said, “Lis? Did anyone come and take him? Fucking god damn it, you’d think killing the Don would be enough to send these bastards to ground, but I—“

“They _didn’t,”_ Lisa bawled, “I sent him _away!”_

There was a silence. Lisa pulled away from Mick, rubbing at her eyes, her chest heaving and her breath blubbery, bubbling wet out of her throat. “Just—just like the Beast. I sent my beauty away. Because I’m bad, and toxic, and evil, and—“

“He called you gold,” Len cut her off, “like you were the sun. Like he saw you how we do. Just as beautiful, and bright, and brave.”

“Well, he was wrong! I’m a _monster_ , Lenny,” Lisa said, hugging herself tight. “I’m an evil fucking monster that kidnapped him and trapped him and made him stay and made him watch someone die—“

“Lis,” Mick cut in, his voice gentle and quiet, “baby girl. That’s my fault. Don’t blame yourself for something I did—“

“But _I let this happen,”_ Lisa said. “ _I_ led him back here, _I_ told Lenny we should use Cisco, I—I—“

“You let him go,” Len said, “you put someone else in our family in danger, and now you’re telling me—“

“Shut _up,_ Lenny,” Lisa snapped. “Cisco’s not family. We don’t deserve him.”

“Why not?” Len retorted. “He’s like us. He’s our family.”

 “Because he’s not _safe here,”_ Lisa screamed, whipping around and staring down her brother, fists clenched. “Because _I’m not safe,_ Lenny! I’m _bad!_ I’m _cruel_ and _awful_ and—and—“

“Lis,” Len said, reaching out to cup his sister’s cheeks. She jerked her head away. His heart ached. “Lisa, please—“

“Why am I so _bad,_ Lenny?” she sobbed, her fists curled up tight, drawing blood from her palms. “Why do I feel so _dirty?”_

“You’re not bad, baby girl,” Len promised. “You spent all your life with bad people. And I couldn’t always keep you safe, and I’m _sorry,_ Lis, I am. You’re not bad. You and me, we were just unlucky, I think. But we have a family now, Lisa. We have Mick, and we have Cisco. So why did you send him away?”

“Because I _had to,”_ Lisa said. “To _protect him!_ Because I have to keep him safe, Len! From _this!_ From _me!”_

 _“_ We’re not the problem, Lis,” Len retorted. “That brat Barry Allen is, his family are, but we’re not—“

“ _No!_ No, we _are!”_ Lisa screamed. There was a pause. Len took a step back. Mick reached out his hand and was shoved away, Lisa pointing at her brother, almost digging her finger into his chest.

“You should’ve let daddy kill me, Lenny,” Lisa said, tears running down her face. “I should’ve died. I should’ve died before I ever could’ve hurt anyone.”

“Take that back,” Len said, his voice so soft it ached. “Take it back, Lisa. Right now.”

“ _No!”_ Lisa shouted. “I _won’t!”_

“ _Take it back,”_ Len said, sharper this time, and Lisa screamed, an incoherent jumble of grief spilling from her lips as Mick stepped between them.

“Nope, we’re not doing this,” he said. “We gotta go. We’ll get Cisco later, when it’s safe. Now get in the fucking van, both of you.”

Len bared his teeth at Mick, his eyes red-rimmed. “We’re not leaving him to _die.”_

“You’re right. We’re not. We’re leaving him to get settled ‘til the two of you get your shit together,” Mick said. “Now go, or you’re both going out over my shoulders.”

Lisa stormed off downstairs, bags in hand; Len squared his shoulders and jutted his jaw out, glaring at Mick defiantly. The effect was ruined somewhat by the few stray tears making his cheeks gleam.

“Lenny,” Mick sighed, hefting him up and carrying him over his shoulder down the stairs, snagging their duffle bags on his free arm on the way out, closing the door behind him.

Lisa sat in the back of the van, curled up in her blanket, some of her hair sticking out through where she’d wrapped herself up tight. She didn’t say a word to Len or Mick as Mick unceremoniously dumped Len into shotgun and climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and leaving the neighborhood with a sigh.

“We’ll come back for him,” he said, though as the words hung in the silence, he wasn’t exactly sure who he was supposed to be comforting.

…

By the time they arrived at the safehouse—a tiny abandoned warehouse upstate, surrounded by forest and not much else—neither Len nor Lisa had spoken a word. Mick was starting to fidget, drumming his fingers on the wheel, fiddling with radio stations just to have something to twiddle and stim with.

“He was sorry.”

Mick turned the radio off. “’Scuse me, Lis?”

“He said he was sorry,” Lisa said, her voice a bitter rasp. “He thought he looked ungrateful back at the casino. He wanted you to know he was glad you protected him.”

Mick sighed through his teeth. “Damn. He’s a good kid, Lis. You’re lucky he loves you.”

“No,” Lisa said, wrapping herself up tighter in the blanket. Mick stopped the car and took the keys, stuffing them in his pocket.

“Well, when you two are ready to behave like fuckin’ adults, I’m going inside and straightening up the place,” Mick said. “We prolly left it like shit last time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Len said, staring out the window, pointedly not looking at his sister. Mick rolled his eyes and went inside, unlocking the heavy steel door and pushing his way in.

He left it unlocked as he took his time sweeping up, wiping dust off of the shelves and re-organizing the pantry, chock-full of preservatives, fiddling with the cable box with a bag of saltwater taffy next to him, almost stale and hard and cracking between his teeth.

Lisa came in first, breezing past him with her bags, throwing them down on the couch and flopping down along it. “The pull out’s mine.”

“Fine,” Mick said. “Hey, far be it from me to say shit ‘bout not talking, since I know sometimes I…y’know, but are you gonna talk to Lenny anytime soon?”

“Why should I?” Lisa snapped. “He’s so selfish.”

“For wanting you to stay alive?” Mick retorted, crunching another piece of taffy between his teeth.

“For wanting Cisco to be family,” Lisa said, brushing her hair from her cheek. “Cisco almost got _killed,_ and Lenny still thinks this is the safest place for him to be?”

There was a few minutes of silence between them. Mick finished fiddling with the cable and plugged the television in, turning it on and flipping through channels until he found Boomerang. He made a face. “Fuck me. It’s Deitich’s _Tom and Jerry_ shorts.”

“Mick—“

“You know I got family out in Staten Island, right?” Mick said, watching the cheap limited animation play out on screen, static and flat and crackling with age. Lisa made a face.

“You’re right, this does suck,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “So?”

“So, I could go stay with them, y’know,” Mick said. “Mom’s dead, the old bastard’s rotting in hell, but I got Aunt Ang and Uncle Rocky and Gramma Rizzi, and too many fuckin’ cousins to count. I could go back. Be safe. Have a steady job doing contract work for the mob.”

“And…”

“And I’m here, with Len, with you, because I love you both so much it fuckin’ kills me, Lis, because that matters to me more,” Mick said. “You matter to me more. Both of you. More than safety, more than stability, more than—more than anything.”

Lisa fiddled with her hair, deep in thought. Mick sighed. The cartoon ended and the next one’s theme started to play. Lisa made a face. “Another Deitich.”

“We _are_ each other’s safety and stability,” Mick said. “It’s on us to keep each other safe. That’s why Lenny’s upset. He got like that when we were in juvie together, you know. ‘Cause of you.”

“Me?” Lisa said, brows raised. Mick nodded.

“Yeah, you. S’cause he wasn’t around to look after you, Lis. He was so scared your dad’d find some reason to beat the shit out of you and leave you for dead without him around to take the blows. You were all he could ever talk about.”

Mick gestured around at the huge safe house. “To him, this is as safe as Cisco could ever be. He doesn’t get that you might not want this for him. This is all he knows, Lis. This is how he protects you. I don’t—I don’t think he knows there might be another way.”

Lisa hugged herself tight. They didn’t say anything and watched another jerky, poorly animated short play out until the credits rolled again.

“Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“I never told him, but I can tell you, I think,” Lisa said. “Don’t tell, but—but I was scared of that too. So. I mean…”

She sighed, folding her blanket up and using it as a pillow to prop herself against the armrest. Mick reached back and took her hand. She squeezed it tight. “I don’t know, Mick. I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“He’s not,” Mick said. “He’s mad at himself, I know him. Give it time.”

Lisa nodded. Another short started up again and Mick beamed. “Hey, there he is; Charles M. Jones himself. We’re in for an actual fuckin’ good episode, Lis.”

Lisa laid down, eyes half-closed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Aw, don’t go to sleep,” Mick protested, “I was gonna make dinner!”

“M’not,” Lisa said, already half asleep. Mick rolled his eyes and got up, pulling the camp stove out in front of the television and opening up a box of mac-n-cheese, setting the water to boil and watching the cartoon, enraptured.

…

Mick and Lisa ate alone that night. Lisa threw all her stuff off the couch, pulled it out, and sighed, throwing a blanket over it and flopping down.

“He’s being a dramatic brat,” Mick said. “Want me to stay with you tonight, Lis?”

“If you want,” Lisa sighed, rubbing at her temples and kicking off her pants, rolling over. “He’s the worst.”

“He is, but he loves you,” Mick agreed, laying down after turning the box fan on. Lisa laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for Mick’s snores to start up, sawing through the air. She smiled, just a little.

The night dragged on. There was no sound in the safe house. She didn’t even hear the door open, nor footsteps; she only registered another person’s presence when Len sank onto the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her tight.

“Lisa,” he said, burying his face into her neck. She stiffened, reaching up to hug him close.

“Lenny?” she whispered. “Are you…crying?”

He nodded. She turned over on her side and hugged him tighter. “How come?”

He shook his head. She sighed and kissed his forehead. “M’not mad, you big dummy. I’m sorry I flipped out on you this morning. I was upset.”

“I didn’t want you to die,” Len said, and her heart broke. “Lisa, Lisa, I never wanted you to die, I tried so _hard_ to keep you safe I tried so _hard—“_

Her heart ached. “Lenny, I know, I know. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean to say that stuff. I was just trying to make you as sad as I was, and that’s shitty. I know you’re trying to protect me, dummy.”

He hugged her even tighter. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Can you believe me when I say I was trying to do the same for Cisco? ‘Cause I was.”

“This _is_ safe, Lis,” Len said. “I didn’t realize it before, but he’s not safe with them. Not just because of his family. But the people he calls his best friends don’t do a damn thing. That’s not how things should be. He’s too good, Lis. He has to stay here. We have to protect him. No one else will.”

“Lenny,” Lisa sighed, “he can survive on his own.”

“Not the same thing,” Len insisted. “I didn’t die in juvie. But you still weren’t there, and I remember how that felt. I don’t—I don’t want Cisco to…”

He trailed off. Lisa tugged his jacket off, snuggling into the fur ruff before draping it over Mick as a blanket. He rumbled mid-snore and Lisa and Len smiled at each other.

“He said we had the same smile,” Lisa said. “And he liked my smile, Lenny.”

“He did.”

A pause. Then; “Lis? Do you love him?”

“I think so.”

“You have to be sure.”

“No I don’t,” Lisa said. “This isn’t a score. I don’t have to be sure of anything yet.”

Len made a face and Lisa huffed. “What I _do_ know is I care about him a lot, Lenny. I want—I want him to come back. But I still had to let him go.”

“After I found Mick, I never let him go.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Lisa grumbled. “You didn’t kidnap Mick.”

“No. But may I remind you, baby sister, he came back from the bar with you of his own free will.”

“S’different,” Lisa mumbled, tracing her fingers up his chest. “Hey, Lenny, this place get wifi?”

“Nah. But if you wear that wig and take the car down a few miles, there’s a café you can use. Why?”

“I just wanna keep an eye on him,” Lisa sighed. “If it gets bad, Lenny, we’ll go back. But—but right now, I just…”

She rolled over, letting her brother wrap his arm around her waist, cuddling her close. “I don’t know, Lenny. He’s too good, I think. Too sweet and kind. I don’t want to kill that in him. I don’t want to bring out the worst in him.”

“Well,” Len said after a moment’s contemplation, “for what it’s worth, you bring out the best in me.”

They laid together in silence for a long time after that, long enough Len thought his sister had finally fallen asleep. Then;

“Lenny? I’m sorry. I promise I’m real glad I didn’t die. I’m happy I’m here with you.”

“Me too, Lis,” Len mumbled, closing his eyes and kissing her hair. “Don’t have to apologize to me. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Lisa sighed, a last exhale of breath before she drifted off. Len didn’t sleep until he started to count off her regular rise and fall of breaths, broken off occasionally by Mick’s rough, staccato snore.


	8. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco is bi as hell, stressed, and sad. Barry is oblivious. Iris is a wonderful, wonderful friend, even when she makes a small mistake or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Cisco interactions are the best thing in the world, and I'm glad Joe West adopted his third son at some point in the show even if no one ever actually addresses it? But Cisco is absolutely a West child. Which is good, his bio family is Bad. Also, Cisco has strict Pokemon opinions. Less strict is my ability to work with the Flash timeline because if you stop and think about it for like two seconds it just. Falls apart. So hopefully this makes sense, but in my defense, the original made zero sense and I am working with what I got. Enjoy!

Cisco didn’t see them for a long, long time after that. Not that he didn’t keep busy, given that basically the next three months of his life were spent on fire, what with the whole “your mentor actually probably definitely killed your best friend’s mom and was a super huge liar about everything, all the time. Also, you might have died once. It was really unclear.”

He wanted to dream of Lisa again, even if it hurt. Better than dreaming about dying, over and over and over. It would give him something to focus on that wasn’t Harrison Wells, his mentor, his friend, the guy who had paid for his _surgery_ for Christ’s sake—was probably really totally a bad guy. And would have killed him. Almost did. Almost.

He was really tired of the fucking _concept_ of almost, actually, but they had bigger things to worry about than Lisa and Harrison and _almost._ Maybe he still had her on the brain all the time, but he was fine. Really. It wasn’t a big deal. He was super in control of the situation and everything.

“Iris? Have you heard anything?”

Okay, maybe not.

Iris turned around at her desk, cocking her head. “Cisco? Aren’t you supposed to be out with dad looking for…you know, whatever you’re both up to?”

“Yeah, but—this is important,” Cisco said. “Really important, Iris, please.”

He put down a neat brown bag with a pretty pastel logo on her desk. “And I brought lunch.”

“That’s bribery,” Iris said, already opening the bag. “But really good bribery, actually. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Cisco grinned, taking out a whipped cream bun and biting into it. They ate their custard and curry buns in silence for a little while, Iris tapping away at her article and Cisco occasionally leaning over her shoulder to proofread.

“I haven’t seen anything from them anywhere,” Iris finally said. “No one’s got any sources saying Snart’s in town, or the other guy he’s always with—“

“That’s his husband,” Cisco said, “Mick Rory.”

“Right, okay,” Iris replied, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “No sign of Lisa especially. I’m sorry, Cisco, really.”

“Don’t apologize,” Cisco said with a sigh. “They told me they were going to ground. I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. But I dunno.”

He closed his eyes. “Also, it’s nice being with you. I want you to know that.”

“You don’t have to worry, I know,” Iris yawned. “Ugh. I’m so tired, and Felicity’s coming into the city for dinner tonight.”

“Doesn’t she have that weirdo manchild CEO of hers to babysit?”

“Don’t say that, she’ll start crying,” Iris sighed. “I’m gonna go talk to my boss about a pitch, and then we’re gonna go out for coffee, you and me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cisco promised, watching her leave. While she spoke with her boss in the other room, Cisco finished off a red bean bun and fiddled with his phone, idly playing _Neko Atsume._ He’d named his favorite cat, a splotchy white-and-red one, after Lisa. The orange tabby was Len. And the all black cat with mismatched eyes was Mick, and yes, this was ridiculous, but whenever he saw them show up in his fake game yard, he got irrationally happy.

Maybe he needed to stop playing phone games about cats.

Cisco shrugged. He was in too deep, and that was fine. It wasn’t like that was a new condition—he’d had a red cat named Barry for at least two months.

“Hey! Cisco!”

Speaking of.

He hushed Barry hurriedly, gesturing to the office. Barry cocked his head, mouthing a silent question. Cisco sighed. “She’s in her boss’ office, haranguing him about one thing or another. Journalism stuff.”

“Iris,” Barry smiled. “She works herself too hard.”

He flicked his glance up towards Cisco and Cisco clutched his phone against his chest, his chest hot and his face flushed. “So do you, y’know. I worry about you.”

“Bar,” Cisco promised, “really, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” Barry protested. Cisco shushed him. He winced and continued on, quieter, “Cisco, you haven’t been the same since she—“

“No,” Cisco said. “Not here, please. I don’t want to talk here. About it. I mean. No.”

“Okay,” Barry agreed, holding his hands up. “Okay. But maybe…”

He gestured at Iris’ desk after a moment’s contemplation. “She’s leaving me alone for dinner with Felicity tonight, and Joe’s going to be working overtime on something he won’t tell me about.”

Cisco made a face and murmured sympathetically like he didn’t know exactly what Joe was doing, or what it had to do with Barry’s mom. Barry beamed. “But that means I’m free tonight! And so are you, right?”

“Hey, ouch,” Cisco said. “I might have a hot date. Or dinner with my family. And I’d enjoy maybe half one of those.”

Barry shook his head. “Dante keeps calling me, you know. I know you haven’t talked to them since—y’know.”

“What do I know, since you’ve repeated it so often?” Cisco said, the words slicing through his tense throat quicker than intended. Barry shook his head.

“We’re worried about you,” he said. “Ask her when she comes back, she’ll tell you the same thing. And I know Joe is too. Why don’t you stay with us instead of sleeping in the lab? I mean—“

“I’ll come to dinner with you tonight,” Cisco said, because he was an idiot, and getting too close to dating and then getting dropped like a hot potato seemed to be a new hobby of his, “Just relax. Please.”

“Okay,” Barry sighed. “Iris?”

“Ew, why are you here?” she teased, leaving her boss’ office and grinning at Barry. He made a face at her and she made a face back, sweet and familiar and practiced.

“I’m just leaving,” he said. “Wanted to bring you food, but Cisco beat me to it, so I’ll enjoy these burgers myself.”

“You fucker,” Iris said, grinning. “Gimme one.”

He tossed her the tinfoil wrapped package. “Bye, Iris. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she yawned, waving him off. “Come back with coffee next time.”

“You got it,” Barry said, leaning down to kiss her head before leaning up to kiss Cisco on the forehead. “Bye, Cisco. Love you too.”

Cisco put his hand against his forehead, where the kiss mark had started to pulse and throb. Iris raised her eyebrows and watched Barry leave.

There was a pause.

“He has no idea, does he?”

“No.”

…

Cisco bought the coffees. Iris didn’t say anything about Barry, because that was what best friends were for, so he didn’t bring it up, because he was sick to death of being in love with people, and wanted to talk about something that was actually _fun._

“Have you heard about _Pokemon Go_?” Cisco said, sipping his caramel macchiato. “They say it’s gonna be incredible. I’m stoked.”

“Oh my god, Cisco,” Iris grinned, “please don’t die playing some dumb video game.”

“You’re dumb,” he said, and she laughed. He tutted. “I bet you’d pick Bulbasaur.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“You’d know, if you knew about Pokemon,” Cisco teased. “Charizard’s the objective best, man. Aside from Noivern. I’m not a frickin’ genwunner.”

“I understood about half that, and not for the reasons I usually do,” Iris said. Cisco snorted.

“Please, I don’t always understand your journalistic mumbo-jumbo either,” he replied. “Lemme put it like this; you’d hop a fence and run through traffic for a good scoop, right?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Okay, so _Pokemon Go_ is like doing that, but for something like this,” Cisco said, pulling a picture of Charizard up on his phone. Iris furrowed her brow, staring at it.

“Well. I mean. What kind of traffic? Rush hour or Sunday evening?”

She checked her phone as he stowed his away, scrolling through her emails. “Ugh. Can’t even go on break without my boss emailing me.”

“Ignore him,” Cisco said. “You have an outfit picked out to wear for tonight? I mean, where is Felicity taking you?”

“Who knows, someplace nice,” Iris said with a shrug. “She makes more money in an hour than I do in a month, so I don’t mind getting spoiled some.”

She grinned, big and wicked. “And she sent me the outfit, you know. With accessories.”

“Oh my god, did your girlfriend mail you lingerie? Jesus Christ,” Cisco said. “Make her stop babysitting Oliver Queen.”

“When she’s not looking, my plan is to push him off a bridge.”

They snickered as Iris pulled up the pictures on her phone. “This isn’t exactly a Charizard, but it’s still pretty cool.”

Cisco squinted. “Dunno. My money’s still on the Charizard.”

“Still,” Iris said, grinning more. “She’s really sweet, you know? She’s just so nervous and eager to please. Like I care if she buys me thousand dollar lingerie or not. I just—really like her.”

“Well, she’s lucky,” Cisco said lightly. “You’re the best.”

“Tch, flirt,” she said, waving him off and finishing her coffee, packing up her purse. Cisco bought another coffee for the walk as he polished off his first one. “Wanna walk back with me to my office? You gotta be bored of spending your time in the lab, since you’re sleeping there and all.”

“Well, would you want me to go home?” Cisco griped, following her out the door and down the street. There’s still fucking skirts in my closet, Iris. Fucking _bras._ I don’t—even—have— _breasts_ anymore!”

He flinched, his stomach turning as his gaze slid from side to side. Had someone heard? Jesus, he hoped not, please—

“Well,” Iris said, quiet and calm, “maybe Lisa would like them, when she comes back.”

Cisco snorted. “Doubt it. My parents had shit taste in clothing.”

“You wear blazers over tee shirts.”

“Not the same,” Cisco snapped, hurt flaring in his chest, flickering like fire. His mind slid back to the charred corpse he’d stared down and he screwed his eyes shut, his nose prickling with the memory of bile. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be,” Iris said, “I am. Sorry. You’re right. It’s not the same.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Iris took his hand, winding her fingers between his and squeezing it. “Hey. I love you. Sorry when I don’t get it right.”

“No worries,” Cisco said. “Besides, I only wear the blazer when I mean business. Otherwise people might think the sloppy anime tee shirts and jeans are _unprofessional.”_

They shared a grin, and the burning feeling faded down to cold ashes as they walked down the rest of the block.

A few minutes later, they stood in front of her office and he kissed both her cheeks. “Love you too, by the way. Pray for me tonight. I’m going to dinner with Barry.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Cisco,” Iris warned, but he shrugged, heeding her the same way the Trojans heeded Cassandra.

“I’ll be fine, go uncover government corruption or something cool,” he said, waving her off and leaving. Iris watched him go with a sigh.

“Jesus,” she said, rubbing her temples, “if and when I ever meet Lisa, she’s gonna get a piece of my fucking mind after all this.”

...

In the blink of an eye, Cisco went from playing _Pokemon Stadium 2_ on the N64 he’d rigged up in the lab to watching Barry standing in front of him, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement, wearing the lightning-bolt patterned tie Cisco had bought him as a joke and beaming.

“Hi,” he said. “I’ve been waiting to go out with you for _ages,_ dude. We haven’t since—you know.”

He gestured vaguely. “I just. Do I look okay? ‘Cause I got us reservations somewhere nice.”

He paused, cocked his head, wrinkled his nose. “Actually, Felicity did. Actually—Ray did. Well. He owns the place. But.”

“I like Ray,” Cisco mumbled, trying to think of anything other than his smile, his eager, clever hands, or the flowers he had clenched in his fist, like Cisco had specifically sought to create a vision of his worst, deepest hell. “What’s with the flowers? This a date?”

Ooh, no. Too close. Way too close to the heart-cleaving truth, and like peeling back a hangnail he was going to show his desperation, all red and raw and stinging. God damn it.

Barry beamed. It was bright, like salt, which Cisco was just actively committed to rubbing into his open wounds lately. “I just—I dunno. They’re like, welcome back flowers?”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” Cisco protested.

“Not literally, but,” Barry shrugged, “you’ve been really distant lately. And I missed you. And I don’t like—I don’t like that Lisa did this to you.”

“Barry,” Cisco said, shaking his head.  “Hey, dude—“

“No,” Barry insisted. “I’m sorry, it’s just—she really hurt you! You’re in _pain!_ And you have been for _ages_ , and nobody told me you had problems at home because your family sucks and I’m _sorry,_ I just—I didn’t understand! And now I do, and you still won’t let me in, and I just feel like—“

Cisco held up his hands.

In another world, he thinks, his impulses vague, curling like smoke around his brain, he could pluck up the courage, cup Barry’s cheeks, and kiss him. He really, really could. That’s how it would go down in any movie, any story where he was this in love with someone.

Except this wasn’t a story—this was his real life, where if he tried hard enough, sometimes instead of dreaming about dying at his former mentor’s hand, he could dream of Lisa, her hand warm in his, her smile like the sun.

He had made his choice the second he laid down in bed next to Lisa and decided that’s where he could have spent the rest of his life; right beside her, his hand loosely curled around her waist while she glowed, fresh and warm from the shower. The problem was, Lisa had made her choice too, and it wasn’t for a happy ending.

“I don’t know,” Barry said. “I don’t want her to do this to you. You should forget about her, Cisco. She’s bad news, and so’s her brother.”

He reached out, putting his hand on Cisco’s cheek, and god damn it shit, this wasn’t in the script, _he_ wasn’t supposed to lean in like he hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t the romantic hero in Cisco’s life story—

“What Snart said was wrong,” Barry insisted, his voice firm. “You’re safe with me, Cisco. You’ll always be safe with me. And I promise I’ll protect you, and I promise we’ll work this thing with your family out, and—and I’ll be here for you. Okay?”

 _Please don’t love me. Because I love her, and she left me, and now I don’t know what to_ do, _Barry._

“Yeah,” Cisco agreed. “Hey, dude. Calm down. Let’s just go have dinner, okay?”

“Sure,” Barry grinned, “but you really gotta put something nice on first. This is a really fancy place.”

“I can manage,” Cisco agreed. “Now shoo, let me change in peace.”

Barry laughed, and was gone again in a second. Cisco sighed, looked around, and picked up the controller.

The reservations would have to be patient. He was in the middle of a battle, and he couldn’t save.


	9. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco gets an unexpected visit, and gives an unwanted confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been ages since I updated, but given that I went back to school and my country is literally on fire, I'm...you know. Thank you for your patience and understanding.  
> (Also: basically, imagine Cisco got kidnapped instead of Eddie, because Eddie isn't important here because, well...you know?)

The restaurant was warm, and quiet, with exposed brick for the tasteful hipsters and teak tables for the simply tasteful. Barry pulled Cisco’s chair out for him and he rolled his eyes, grinning. “Bar, don’t be ridiculous.”

He was still smiling when he sat. Barry beamed, sitting across from him and leaning in. “So, Cisco. Excited about Pokemon Go?”

There was a beat. Cisco beamed, laughing. “Yeah, hell yeah! I’ll have to play for you, ‘cause you’re too fast for the app to register.”

“Sounds good,” Barry said. “I mean, I don’t know a lot about Pokemon. Fill me in, Cisco?”

For an hour solid, through the bread and the soup course and into the first appetizer, Cisco regaled Barry about Pokemon, an extensive lecture on his favorites, and a promise to go with Barry to the Pokemon Center store in Metropolis.

Their dinners came without much fanfare, and Cisco dug in, slicing his steak up and proffering Barry a piece. Barry accepted it, and chewed thoughtfully. There was a long pause after he swallowed, and Barry finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Cisco,” he said, “you’re really important to me. I want you to know that.”

“I do,” Cisco said, looking at his dinner, at the tablecloth, at the butterflies mounted behind glass on the walls—anywhere but Barry, “you know I do. Barry—“

“Please come stay with me,” he begged. “You can have my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch—you can have Iris’ old room if that bugs you, I’ll—I can take down her old Girl’s Generation posters—“

“Don’t say that,” Cisco said with a shaky grin, “Taeyeon can have you killed, you know. She’s the most powerful pop star in the world.”

“I’m serious,” Barry protested, “Cisco, please. You’re sleeping somewhere he—where Wells—he can hurt you. You’re _vulnerable.”_

“He wouldn’t touch me,” Cisco mumbled. “Wouldn’t dare. Not as long as you’re around to protect me.”

“I can’t—I can’t,” Barry said, rubbing the side of his face. “Cisco. Please. You’re sleeping on a beat up cot with a N64 for company—“

“Hey, I love that N64,” Cisco protested. Barry shook his head.

“You’re not safe with him. And you’re not safe at home. I know that now. _Please_ come stay with us,” he said. “Joe loves you. Iris loves you. I love you. Please. _Please,_ Cisco.”

Cisco smiled, thin and tight and terrible. “You know something, Bar? Len wanted the same thing for me. Your worst nemesis, and all he wanted to do was protect me.”

“Well, then maybe he’s not as bad as I thought,” Barry protested, a frown furrowing his features. Cisco shook his head.

“You’re so good,” he muttered, to no one. “Bar, Lisa sent me away.”

“And I’m telling you to stay,” Barry said. “Don’t worry about her or Snart. Ever again. You have me now, okay? You’ll be safe at my house until it all blows over and we can get an apartment? Maybe?”

He laughed, soft and nervous. “’Cause it—it feels weird without Iris at home, _mano._ Just me and Joe? It’s like a bachelor pad up in there.”

Cisco didn’t dare dream. Didn’t want to think about a tiny apartment with exposed brick like this one with Barry, a small kitchen and a pot of coffee always puttering by the stove, a box fan blowing cool air over their bodies as they laid together and enjoyed the peace that came with total comfort, of understanding and trust so deep they could say a hundred things in silence.

And here he was, thinking of it anyway.

“Cisco,” Barry insisted, “please—“

“I’ll do it,” Cisco said. “But not yet. I—I don’t want Wells to see me leave, okay? If I pack up and just leave after visiting you, it’ll look suspicious. So—tomorrow? Come get me tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Barry promised, a small smile on his face. “Absolutely, Cisco. It’ll be like a sleepover, except you won’t go home in the morning.”

Cisco laughed, his voice strained, and some rough-hewn note in his voice made Barry pause before going back to his dinner. They ate in silence after that, just taking in one another’s company.

“Let me take you home, Barry,” Cisco said as they finished up dessert. “Please.”

Barry didn’t argue. He paid before Cisco could protest, reassuring him it was “On Felicity,” which, even if it wasn’t, Cisco didn’t have the strength to argue. He went out and started his car, and the two of them drove to Barry’s house, singing along to the car radio loudly—Barry off-key, Cisco much less so.

He pulled up in front of the house and got out, opening Barry’s door for him. He clambered out and stood up, grinning at Cisco, his eyes soft and sparkling.

"Hey, _mano,”_ he said. “You’re the best.”

“I try,” Cisco said, glancing aside. “Tell Iris I said I’ll see her tomorrow.”

Barry hugged him tight without warning, and Cisco’s scars crawled with pain, his chest throbbing. Barry pulled away just as quickly. “Sorry, sorry—“

“Shut up,” Cisco said. “Bar? I love you. I really, really do.”

The night was warm, and the air was soft, cupping Cisco’s cheeks like a mother, the breeze skirting around his hair and making it ripple, gleaming like obsidian in the light. Barry cocked his head and regarded him, blinking slowly.

There was a beat. Cisco had no clue what Barry was thinking as he watched him—which wasn’t new, it wasn’t like he was an expert on reading facial cues, but there was something distant in his face. He’d made some decision and Cisco didn’t know what it really was.

What it amounted to, however, was clearly understood. Barry took a step back and nodded.

“Love you too, Cisco,” he said, his voice firm, “you’re my best friend in the whole world.”

Cisco looked at the ground. The glass mixed in with the concrete on the sidewalk glittered like stars, blurry and wet—or maybe he was just crying. Just a little.

 _Boys don’t cry,_ Cisco thought, and snorted on the tears so hard he choked. Barry’s hand was on his cheek, tilting it up. “Cisco?”

“You’re my best friend too, _mano,”_ Cisco promised, reaching up to hold Barry’s hand against his cheek for a second longer. “I love you, okay? Night.”

“Night,” Barry beamed, zipping back into the house. Cisco didn’t even get to watch him walk away.

He stared at the lights of the house, watching until the one in Barry’s window flickered to life before getting back into his car and driving away, blaring the radio so loud his brain reeled with the desire to climb out of his head and curl up in the darkest, coolest, most quiet corner it could find.

Cisco left the car in the lab parking lot, yanking the keys out of the ignition and stumbling inside, tear-blind and muddled with emotion, half-drunk on grief as it dragged its way out from his heart and clawed into his brain.

“This is probably my fault,” he said to his desk, picking up one of his ponies. Moondancer’s shiny airbrushed eyes gleamed, entirely judgmental. Cisco sighed. “I really fucked up, didn’t I? I should’ve just gone with him and never said anything. This is my fault.”

Moondancer didn’t respond, and Cisco put her down gently before taking a deep breath and slamming his hands, hard, on his desk. His palms throbbed and he groaned, his eyelashes fluttering as he took a deep breath. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, but not half so bad as his heart right now, so whatever.

“Fuck it,” he said. “Everything is bad and I’m tired, guys. I’m so tired!”

He climbed on top of his bed and considered his Gameboy. He set it aside gently and rolled over, shaking his head. “Nope. Later. Maybe when I wake up, and I’m less of a fuck-up.”

Cisco buried his face into his pillow and tried not to think of Barry so hard he eventually just fell asleep. His dreams opened up to him, a hall of mirrors playing the same idea over and over and over—his mentor, his friend, his father figure with his hand halfway through his chest, gripping his heart. Every time Cisco tried to turn around and beg him to stop, it wasn’t Harrison—it was Barry, with Barry’s face, Barry’s voice.

“You’re my best friend in the whole world,” Barry promised, pulling Cisco’s heart clean out of his chest.

Cisco jolted in and out of sleep, restless, exhausted, clawing at the sheets and sobbing in sheer frustration when he woke up again and fell back asleep _again,_ until the muddled dream-world of his heart in someone else’s hand started to feel real, and the real world started to weaken around him.

That made sense, didn’t it? That was why Harrison was standing over him right now. His hand was in his hair. It wasn’t safe to wake up. He had to sleep. Unless this was a dream? He couldn’t tell, didn’t matter, couldn’t move—

“Cisco,” Harrison sighed, stroking his hair, winding it between his fingers. “Silly boy. Should’ve known you would stay here tonight.”

 “Barry?” Cisco mumbled, his eyes gritty with sleep. The fingers on his body dug in deep, deeper still.

“Not quite, dear Cisco,” Eobard Thawne said, picking him up and carrying him out of the lab, fast as lightning.


	10. Oh No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eobard-Wells-Harrison-Thawne gets ahold of Cisco. Lisa starts to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason the show as of late has been like "well harrison/eobard abused cisco and hartley but it's like fine whatever barry got faster" and I am so tired of it. this chapter is not that chapter. this is a chapter that deals with emotional abuse and inappropriate touching so keep that in mind and skip all of eowells/cisco's interactions!  
> (i'm using wells' name for consistency's sake, not really sure I'm going to change to eobard. honestly nothing about that plotline made sense.)

The next morning, Lisa awoke with her face smushed against Mick’s armpit and gagged, pulling away and groaning as Mick rolled over to trap her under his huge arm. She nuzzled into his forearm and mumbled, “You reek, Mick.”

“G’morning to you too, princess,” Mick groused, reaching out for Len like a child grasping for their beloved toy, pulling him in close. Len snuggled closer, rubbing his stubble across Mick’s arm.

“She’s right,” he said, “we should shower.”

“Haven’t gotten the shower pipes to work with this cold,” Mick sighed. “Use the sink.”

“Well, you animals can use the sink,” Lisa grumbled, stretching out. “I’m just gonna use some dry shampoo and call it a day.”

“Why don’t you take a look at the pipes?” Mick suggested. “You’re good at this shit, beautiful.”

“Fine,” Lisa agreed. “I just need to go get some coffee first. Clear my head.”

She sat up, pulling her panties on and sliding into a skirt, throwing a cardigan over a lacy tank top. “Lenny? When are we leaving?”

“Few more weeks, I think,” Len yawned. “Check the police blotters while you’re in town, princess. If mentions of us start to taper off, it’s safe to move back into the city, at least.”

Lisa nodded. No one mentioned Cisco as she put her heels on and slung a purse over her shoulder, because his name did not have to be said for everyone to understand what was meant. The space where he should have been beside them, at the table and by the television and on the couch and in the bed—all were keenly felt, sorely missed.

“We’ll go back for him,” Len promised as Lisa shut the door. “It’ll just take time.”

Silence. The only sound after a few seconds was Lisa starting the car up and driving away. Len snuggled back against Mick and closed his eyes.

“She’s right,” he mumbled, “you really do reek.”

Mick snorted, rolling over on top of him. Len squawked and struggled from underneath him, his cries of frustration only dying off as Mick peppered kisses across his cheeks and against his lips.

He pulled away, nipping at Len’s lower lip. “Your morning breath smells like shit, Lenny.”

“Fuck off, Mick,” Len retorted, pressing his forehead against Mick’s. “Do me a favor, would you?”

“Shoot.”

“Go follow her,” Len said. “Take our other car. I’m worried.”

“You sure it’s safe? We did just jack that one a month ago.”

“It was off the side of the road with an old for sale sign, should be fine,” Len said. “I just—I’m worried.”

“Because you think she’ll go try to find Cisco?” Mick said, getting out of bed and pulling his jeans on, throwing a jacket over his tank top. Len grimaced.

“Possibly. Or just—I don’t know. I have a bad feeling in my gut, and I can’t tell you why,” Len said. “Trust me?”

“Always do,” Mick said, heading out. Len watched him go from in bed, curled up in Mick’s jacket, burying his face into Lisa’s blanket and taking a deep breath to fill the empty space.

…

At the same time Lisa Snart pulled into the Galactic Coffee café, Barry Allen was rolling out of bed, grabbing his phone first thing and shooting off a text to Cisco.

_Mano, hey. You up?_

Cisco’s phone received the message as soon as Lisa sat down with a macchiato in hand, steam curling around her fingertips as her phone hovered over the message button. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

_Mi vida? I miss you._

The second message pinged on Cisco’s phone just as Harrison Wells cinched the cables around his wrists, securing them behind his back and then belting him to a chair, the fabric of his shirt catching and bunching around the belt so it rode up on his belly.

Cisco panted, spittle flecking his teeth, his heart hammering and his mind whirling. There had to be some way to fix this, to save himself, to at least _try_ to get ahold of Barry, _something—_

“Ah,” Wells said, his voice calm and idle, like he was examining compiled data rather than stroking his fingers along the strip of exposed skin. “You’ve grown hair. You should be proud. Your progress is remarkable.”

Cisco froze. Something in his thighs quivered, roiled, curling up on itself like cowering prey, eyes wide and tharn. The hand left his body as quickly as it had arrived. “Of course, that’s all thanks to me. Which is why your behavior right now shocks me—well, perhaps not the _only_ reason, but reason enough.”

He wanted to speak. Should speak. Couldn’t speak. He would get In Trouble if he spoke, and he _heard_ those capital letters, _felt_ them, like the names of swords in fantasy novels. Capitalized for importance. For severity. For the fact that he was in danger.

“My Cisco,” Wells murmured, stroking his hair. His touch was deliberate, measured and slow, and an undercurrent of overstimulated panic thrummed in Cisco’s brain like a struck piano wire. The cuffs itched, the belt pressed against his skin, the pit under STAR Labs smelled like formaldehyde and chlorine, and the Bad Feelings—once again capitalized for great import—grabbed Cisco by the brain chemistry and _squeezed_.

 _“Mi hijo,”_ Wells said, fond and paternal. “You’ve grown and changed so much since I met you. Helped you.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Cisco said before he could stop himself, the words slopping out of his mouth like bile, heavy and bitter. His scars throbbed. Wells tutted.

“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth,” he chided Cisco, leaning in and pecking his forehead. “It’s all right, _hijo._ I forgive you. I always have.”

His hand came to rest on Cisco’s thigh. The feeling curdled in his belly, in his mouth. His movement upwards was clinical, detached, precise, as he slid his hand inside Cisco’s jeans, giving an experimental squeeze. Cisco gagged, blind with panic, every sense shut down save for touch, the _heavy unfamiliar_ hand in his _pants—_

“Still flat,” he sighed. “ _Mi hijo,_ you’re not going to pass if you don’t at least try. Your face is still so soft and delicate. I _told_ you to use the packer, I even offered to pay—“

“I didn’t want to owe you,” Cisco said, his throat tight.

“You let me pay for surgery,” Harrison said with a fond smile. “Which I may add, I did. Happily.”

Cisco spit something so vile in Spanish that he wasn’t quite sure of the translation—the one time he’d heard his father say it, his mother had slapped him.

“It’s all right,” Wells promised. “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later. I have a few things to take care of in town. You wait here and cool your heels like a good boy. We’ll sort this out in time for your shot. Don’t worry. I would never let you miss a dose.”

“Get away from me,” Cisco spit, his chest tight, his scars aching like they were about to split. “If you’re going to use me to hurt Barry—“

“Barry? This isn’t about _Barry,”_ Wells snorted. “That idiot couldn’t find your cunt with a map. _Mi hijo,_ this is about _you._ And _me._ ”

Cisco clamped his jaw shut. Wells leaned in and kissed his forehead—delicate and paternal, but burning like acid, like poison, like Don Santini’s corpse. The comparison would have made him laugh if he hadn’t been sure he’d puke.

 _You can just throw up through your nose,_ his brain reminded him, and this time he _did_ laugh, a harsh bark of amusement that made Wells pull back in distaste.

“What I feel for you is not a _joke,_ Cisco,” he said, grabbing Cisco by the chin. “We will discuss your behavior when I get home.”

Cisco twisted his head, breaking the grip, panting, panicked and baring his teeth. Wells just smiled. “Such a handsome boy, baring your teeth at me. I could just reach out and pull them right out of your head.”

He was gone before Cisco could manage a retort, leaving him with dripping pipes and the stench of chemicals and terror, reeking of iron and copper in his bruised throat.


	11. Family Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa and Mick talk and reminisce. Len is worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The perspective bouncing should end in another couple of chapters--thank you for being patient and loving this fic as much as I do, everyone! It makes me so happy people are interested in a fic with two trans mains and goldenvibe as the main pairing! Thank you so, so much.

Lisa waited two hours for a text back. By the time Mick was tugging her phone out of her hand, careful and gentle, she’d had three coffees and two shots of espresso, and her phone had been about to tip from her trembling hands anyway.

She looked up at Mick, her eyes red-rimmed. “Lemme guess. Lenny says he’s worried and you come jetting after me?”

“Clever girl,” Mick said, stowing her phone in his pocket. “C’mon. Let’s go for a drink. Little bit of liquor to take the edge off those jitters.”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

Mick shrugged. “Fine. Then let’s just drive around town. We don’t exactly have a ton to do, Lissie.”

“You haven’t called me that since I was eight.”

“You haven’t been this upset since you were eight,” Mick said. “I still remember.”

“Me too,” Lisa sighed, climbing into the van. “We gonna ditch the other car?”

“Don’t tell Lenny ‘til we get home, but I think it’s for the best,” Mick agreed. “Safer. We shouldn’t be going out on our own anyway.”

“Don’t be _mad,”_ Lisa groaned. “I miss him. Which is dumb, because I’m an evil monster bitch and sent him away in the first place, but I miss him, Mick, I _do._ And I got a bad feeling. A gut feeling, all greasy and sick. _”_

“Lisa,” Mick sighed, leaning in over the seat and kissing her forehead. “You’re none of those things. You know that. Don’t fuckin’ kill yourself over this.”

Lisa made an impatient noise and turned away, pressing her cheek against the glass. Mick just started the car and drove around downtown, going in loops past the thrift stores and boutiques and delis. He waited, watching out of the corner of his eye as Lisa’s shoulders drooped, lowering and relaxing with her eyes half-closed, her breathing heavy.

“When I had to come pick you up from your house,” Mick said, “because I got out of juvie before Lenny—“

“I didn’t know who you were,” Lisa sighed, shaking her head like it would dislodge the memory, “I remember. You came up the walkway and I got so scared. I was worried you were a social worker. Or a friend of daddy’s.”

“You were so little,” Mick said, speaking to the past more than the woman curled up on the seat next to him, “I was so afraid I’d hurt you. But Lenny had begged. Practically gone on his knees asking me t’look after his baby sis. ‘Cause daddy dearest didn’t know Lenny had a baby sis at all.”

“It was so new,” Lisa said, addressing the past in kind, “for both of us. Wasn’t safe.”

“You warmed up to me quick enough, though,” Mick said, finally glancing over at her with a little grin. Lisa snorted.

“You had Lenny’s jacket, dummy,” she said. “That’s how I knew I could trust you. And you used the right name—“

“And I called you Lissie,” Mick said, shaking his head. “’Cause it made you laugh, and you had the cutest fuckin’ laugh, baby girl.”

He reached out, took her hand and squeezed. “Still do.”

“Jerk,” Lisa said, but she squeezed back. “Don’t tease.”

“M’not,” he promised. “I won’t tell Lenny you were looking for Cisco if you don’t want.”

“You’ll tell him,” Lisa sighed, “one way or another, ‘cause you love him, and you’re his husband, and you can’t keep secrets, because that’s marriage for you.”

Mick grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. You make it sound like a curse.”

“No,” Lisa said, looking out the window. “Just an impossibility.”

They drove in silence back towards the safe house after that. The endless wave of nothing save trees passing freed Lisa’s brain up to think about other things—a house at the end of a neat, green street, tight-trimmed lawn and three-bedroom ranches on all sides, two cars in the driveway and food always on the table and in the fridge instead of beer bottles and wine coolers. A bed big enough for two, just two, and Cisco’s hand on hers in the mornings, squeezing her tight so their rings could bite into their grips.

“Seems like a family man, our Cisco,” Mick remarked as they pulled into the driveway. “I dunno, Lissie.”

Lisa grunted, shoving the door open. Mick sighed and got out after her, locking up the car.

She was right—he did tell Len, but not until later that night, after she was asleep and they were looking at each other over her, like parents in the middle of the night hovering over their kid—which, Mick would admit, they basically were.

“She went looking for Cisco today,” Mick said. Len hissed, a short sharp suck of breath that filled his chest immediately, his eyes bright with panic. Mick shook his head. “Not like, out-out. But she went to try to text him. He wasn’t picking up, from the look of things.”

“Maybe he’s still upset,” Len said. “Except he doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges, our Cisco. At the least, if Lisa _had_ gotten his attention, I feel like Lightning Lad would’ve been paying us a visit by now.”

“I think there’s already a superhero with that name, so no go on the nickname, Lenny,” Mick said. “Leave it to Cisco already.”

“Fuck off,” Len said with a laugh. “Fine. But—you know, I just don’t like her doing this to herself. She’s just raking herself over the coals for no damn reason.”

“She’s got a gut feeling too,” Mick said. “Just like you told me this morning. Something bad’s going on, Lenny. I dunno what, but if you two think something’s up—I’ve gotten this far trusting you. Don’t see a reason to stop now.”

Len nodded, running a hand through his sister’s hair. “Well then. Eyes and ears open, Mick. Let’s see what we can see. And if we need to make a move, well—“

“Try and stop her,” Mick said, pulling the blanket up. “We’ll be fine. Night, Lenny.”

Both his sister and his husband were snoring by the time Len had found it in himself to lay down. He tried to let it lull him to sleep as per usual—didn’t work. Something pulsed under his skin, vague but heavy and insistent, like humidity gathering on the windowpane of his thoughts.

“Cisco,” Len sighed, “what have we done?”


	12. Pondering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry worries. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the pause between updates and I know this is a short one, I'm sorry, I had spring break and it's hard to remember things sometimes and I'm so sorry, I hope you enjoy this, next update will be longer and I apologize, I do, thank you for being patient it means a lot to me!

The day passed. Barry tried to play it off like he was fine, excellent even, but no Cisco in the lab all day had really ground on his nerves. Even when he’d run out quick to stop a bank robbery in progress—two kids, none of Len’s talent or charm—he’d felt frustrated by the lack of Cisco chattering in his ear, directing and guiding him to where he needed to be.

“Cait,” Barry said, sitting down with lunch from the Big Belly Burger, trying not to think about the fact he’d ordered Cisco’s usual, “have you gotten any texts from Cisco today?”

She shrugged, taking the strawberry shake from Barry when it was proffered to her. “Nope, sorry. Why, you’re trying to get ahold of him?”

Barry made a face. “No, I’m not trying to _‘get ahold’_ of him. It’s just—“

He paused, turned around in a complete circle. Caitlin quirked her eyebrow. Barry made a face. “You know.”

“Sure,” Caitlin said. “You’re worried he—“

“No, I just—“

“Well, if there’s a problem—“

“No, really, it’s fine,” Caitlin said. “You’re worried. I’ll text him.”

And she did. And nothing came of it. So the whole day ticked past, and Barry zipped back to the lab late at night, poking his head in.

“Cisco?” he called, walking just above the place where he was being held captive, “Cisco? _Mano?”_

No response. Barry sighed through his teeth, looked around, paced the room. After a moment’s consideration, he grabbed Cisco’s N64 and the duffel bag full of games he kept, and hefted them into his arms.

“Just in case,” he told himself, zipping back home.

Two days later, just in case hadn’t done a damn thing to distract Barry from the truth—Cisco was gone. Not at home, of course—he’d sent Caitlin over to check, and she hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise before his family had immediately set in asking if she’d seen their daughter. Caitlin had reminded them they didn’t _have_ one, but before it had turned into a fight, she’d settled for storming out.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” she griped, sipping angrily at another strawberry shake and pacing the room. “You know what, Barry? Maybe they killed him and hid his body under the basement floorboards.”

“You don’t know that,” Barry said.

“Do you know they _didn’t_?” Caitlin snapped. “They give me the creeps. Calling him by the wrong name is so fucking gross.”

“I should ask Joe if we can file a child abuse suit,” Barry frowned. “Probably not, since he’s a legal adult. But we should do something about them.”

“Restraining order?” Caitlin offered.

“He’d have to be here to okay that,” Barry said. “I was thinking something less formal. More like, giving Snart and Rory his family’s address.”

Caitlin laughed. “Okay, fair. But that brings us back to our major problem; namely, our Cisco—“

Barry held up a hand. “Wait. Caitlin. You feeling up to lunch?”

She cocked her head. He mouthed ‘ _trust me,’_ adding, “We’ll call Iris. It’ll be a get-together.”

Caitlin nodded, letting Barry hold the door for her on the way out.

…

“Well, this is nice,” Iris said as Caitlin pulled out her chair for her, “what’s the occasion?”

“I haven’t heard from Cisco in two days,” Barry said, “and I’m freaking out.”

Iris’ face fell. “Bar. You didn’t tell me?”

“I was—I thought maybe he was just mad at me, or hiding because he didn’t want to come stay with us, but I’ve checked in at all his usual haunts and they haven’t heard from him either,” Barry explained.

“I went to go talk to his family, even,” Caitlin said, “they’re the worst, by the way.”

“No surprise there,” Iris murmured. “Barry, you should’ve said—“

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, glancing away. “I thought he was just upset that I convinced him to stay. I just—I’m _scared,_ Iris. What if Caitlin’s right and his family buried him under the floorboards?”

“What?” Iris said. “They’re transphobic, not murderers.”

“Not that far of a step, though,” Caitlin amended.

“Okay, yes, but we can safely assume for the time being they didn’t murder him, because I feel like Cisco would’ve at least sent out a ‘hey, I’m being murdered, come pick me up’ text,” Iris replied. “Barry, you’ve checked the city?”

“Every bit,” he said, and Iris paused, looking him up and down. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he was fiddling with his hands, picking at cuticles. “Iris, I’ve looked everywhere.”

“I know,” she soothed him, reaching out to take his hand. “So. Since I’m coming into this problem fresh, let me offer a new idea; I’ll put something out in the paper.”

“That could risk Wells finding out,” Caitlin said, “finding Cisco before we do.”

“I know,” Iris sighed, “but you know who else might see it?”

The answer hung in the air. Barry shook his head. “No. I’m not asking them for their help. They’re _criminals_ , Iris—“

“They love him,” Iris said. “Or at least, he loves them. We met and talked about Lisa just once, and you should’ve seen his face. Bar—he _misses_ her. Maybe this is the push she needs to come back.”

Barry flinched. Caitlin didn’t say anything. Iris sighed. “Look. I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind the second she comes back. But you can’t deny that those three probably know more about the ins and outs of this city than anyone else, and Central’s just _full_ of ins and outs. There’s a ton of places in this area I don’t think anyone except criminals have used in years.”

“Ankh-Morpork is built on Ankh-Morpork,” Barry mumbled, looking at nothing. Iris furrowed her brow. He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s—it’s something Cisco used to say.”

“We have to assume he’s been kidnapped, or worse,” Iris said, winding a curl around her fingertip. “I know it’s hard, Barry, but let me put something in the paper. At least a small blurb—nothing too eye catching, but if she’s looking for him, she’ll see it.”

Barry paused. Neither woman pushed him for an answer. He screwed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath.

“Okay,” he agreed, exhaling it in a low, slow motion. “You’re right, Iris. It’s our last option.”

“Saved the best for last,” she said, squeezing his hand tight. “How about you two come out to dinner with Felicity and I tonight? You’ve earned it.”

“I wouldn’t want to be third wheeling,” Caitlin protested. Iris laughed.

“You’re not. I told her she could invite Laurel and Sara, but only if I got to invite my little gang,” Iris said. “And you two are it.”

There was a beat.

“Cisco should be there,” Caitlin said, staring down into her coffee.

“I know,” Iris said, reaching across the table and winding her hands into Caitlin’s. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him. And when we do, I’ll invite everybody over again. We’ll go someplace great and have fun. Okay?”

Caitlin nodded, blinking back tears. “Okay. I’m just—I’m so scared—“

“Ssh,” Iris soothed her, standing up. “C’mon, beautiful. Walk with me.”

“I got the check,” Barry said, bounding up from his seat and letting Caitlin walk away with Iris, tears sliding down her face as she clung to Iris tight.

“It’s okay,” Iris promised, letting Caitlin hug her. “I’m worried too.”

“I’m sorry,” Caitlin wheezed, burying her face into Iris’ neck, “this is so dumb, you can be sad too—“

“Okay, then we’ll both cry,” Iris said, burying her face into Caitlin’s hair and breathing her in. “It’s okay to cry.”

“It is,” Caitlin promised, winding her arms around Iris’ waist. “Hey, Iris?”

“Yeah?” Iris said, tears glittering at the edges of her eyelashes. Caitlin reached up and kissed her cheek.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Caitlin said. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“We are,” Iris agreed. “Want to make Barry go with us while we try on dresses for tonight? Felicity’s paying.”

“Sounds awesome,” Caitlin agreed, squeezing her tight. “Thank you so much.”

Iris broke away as Barry left Jitters, grinning. “Hey! Bar! You ready to go dress shopping?”

“Sure,” Barry said with a shrug. “Not like I’m doing anything else today.”

He wanted to be sitting in his room doing nothing but watching Cisco mess up at the Clefairy memorization game in _Pokemon Stadium_ and swearing in Spanish at the screen with a plate of pizza rolls between them, but he didn’t want to say it. Too selfish, too unfair.

Still, Iris took his hand and squeezed, like she understood, and it got him through the next six hours in a Bloomingdale’s all right.


	13. Missing Since

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word, eventually, reaches Lisa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about how long this chapter took to publish, but it required a complete and total rewrite of some content I felt was way too triggering and unnecessarily grim to publish. That said, this is still creepy as hell and deals with non consensual...everything, so please avoid this chapter if that's something you're going to be triggered by!!!   
> I also doubled the chapter length as an apology and thank you again for your patience, it means a lot to me! This was tough to rewrite, so I really appreciate it!

Cisco dreamed. There was nothing to dream of in a place like this, and yet here he was in a half-sleep, some muddled grey place where thoughts gave strange form to stranger ideas.

The past, the future, the present all met and swirled together like melting ice cream, dripping over his brain in a numb, cold wave of concepts. There was Wells, his hands on Cisco’s thighs, sliding up, sliding up, his mouth hot and twitching and mucus-covered, like the bottom of an abattoir, and wow, we’re _not_ going to think about that, subconscious. We’re going to fuck right off.

Cisco laughed, wet and mottled with pain and anger. His lips were still bleeding and his ears rang with what had been said in between touches. His shoulder throbbed with the memory of his last injection; testosterone had to be given through the muscle, and he had thrashed and shook before getting grabbed and injected, the needle forcing its way through his skin.

It didn’t matter. Here was the present. Barry was alive, and safe, and searching for him. He barely had to dream it to believe it. But the vision presented itself anyway—Caitlin, Iris, Barry, his people, his _friends_ —

The future. God, please. Lisa’s hands cupping his cheeks before he felt her lips on his forehead.

“ _Mi vida,”_ he whispered through blood clotted between his teeth, “ _mi vida, mi vida.”_

There it was, the three of them standing over him, fussing and fluttering around his restraints like a flock of startled birds, Len’s quick hands undoing every lock and catch until Mick’s knife settled for slitting the leather bands and pulling him right out, delivering him into Lisa’s waiting arms. This was how it should be—Lisa, Mick, and Len, his protectors, his _family_ —

“Francisco _,”_ Wells said, pulling Cisco out of the dream, into the waiting arms of a living nightmare. “Rest well? I should hope.”

Cisco froze up. He watched, wide-eyed, as Wells approached him, adjusting his jacket and having a casual seat across from Cisco, like they were having a meeting in his office. He reached across and put a hand on Cisco’s knee, rubbing it idly. “I’ve been worried about you, you know. You haven’t been sleeping well. Bad dreams?”

Cisco shook his head. Wells frowned. “Are you sure, Cisco? You don’t dream of the other timeline? Not even a little? I’m hurt.”

Cisco screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Don’t—don’t. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me—“

“Oh, Francisco, you’re overstimulating yourself,” Wells hushed him. “Hush. Hush, hush. I won’t ask again. Are you surprised I remember? Of course I do. I’m so sorry for what I had to do, but I meant everything I said.”

Cisco shook his head as much as his bindings allowed him to move, his whole body trembling violently under the straps. Wells’ hand crept up from his knee to his thigh, squeezing. “Francisco. You were the son I never had, never thought I could even want. But I never got to tell you how much more you meant to me.”

“No,” Cisco whimpered. “No, no.”

“It started that way, but the longer you stayed in my life, and the more I helped you become who you are, I realized,” Wells paused, drumming his fingers on the inside of his thigh. “Mm, you didn’t wear your packer the day I brought you here? I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice. I’ll bring it to you for next time.”

“Stop,” Cisco said, “please, please, I don’t want to hear this—“

Wells grabbed him by the hair and held him tight, and Cisco forced himself to stay still, chanting the ever-present reminder in his head from his parents— _quiet hands quiet hands don’t make a fuss don’t make a scene you bad bad boy quiet hands quiet hands—_

His hands flapped listlessly nonetheless, defiantly stimming under duress. Wells caught one in his free hand, winding his fingers between Cisco’s and squeezing.

“I never wanted a son,” Wells said, “but I thought, perhaps, that might be why I felt such regret at your loss. And then I realized—“

Cisco moans in pain, Wells’ hand squeezing harder.

“Oh, I didn’t miss my son,” he said, “I missed my good boy. My special, handsome boy I helped make. I helped you become who you are, so of course I loved you. It seemed so simple once I’d realized—really, you’d think I would’ve put it together before, I’m not exactly a fool—“

 _Lisa,_ Cisco changed his chant, _Lisa Lisa Lisa I love you love you love you Barry Lisa Barry Lisa Barry Barry Lisa please—_

“But what matters is I have you here, now, where you’re safe as houses,” Wells said. “You’re going to stay here, my special little boy, and I’m going to make sure Barry doesn’t screw this up.”

He strokes his hair, winding Cisco’s wet curls between his fingers. “Don’t worry, Francisco. Once I’ve taken care of him, I’ll deal with that little Snart tramp, and you can leave here. You won’t have anything to worry about, so I won’t have to hide you away, hmm?”

Cisco’s heart thudded, shrieked, went tharn. _Lisa he knows Lisa he has Lisa Lisa Lisa—_

“Don’t look so surprised, Franscisco, it’s not a good look for you,” Wells sighed. “It’s all right. They’ve lied to you and hurt you and pretended to love you, but how could they? They don’t know you like I do. They can’t love you like I do, like God loves his angels. I made you.”

Cisco pursed his lips, trembling, tears welling up hot along his eyes. Wells snapped his fingers. “Speaking of! You need your injection, that’s why I came down here—hold still, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t,” Cisco begged, barely a whisper. “Please don’t. Please.”

“Cisco,” Wells sighed, unclasping a small leather case and removing a syringe and a bottle, pushing the needle past the foil covering and filling the vial up, “we’ve discussed this. You can’t skip a dose, and I can’t trust you to move about freely yet. Consider this a time-out for being naughty and playing with Lisa, precious.”

Cisco gagged as he approached, panting and struggling in his chair, twisting away. The grip that slammed into his neck was crushing, knocking the air loose from his windpipe in a gasp. Wells’ fingers tightened briefly before pulling back and grabbing Cisco’s hair in his fist, ignoring the snarled clump he’d made of the soft, dark locks.

“If you can’t stay still, all you do is make it hurt more,” he tutted, yanking his head back. “You’re already in trouble as it is. Do you want to make things worse for yourself?”

Cisco clenched his jaw, tears pouring down his face. A hot, sharp sensation sparked in his shoulder, and he screamed, the needle sliding into the burning lump where the last injection had left its mark.

“ _Do you?”_ Wells snarled, digging his free hand into Cisco’s scalp. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head.

“No,” he whimpered, licking chapped lips, “no, I don’t, please don’t, I’m sorry…”

The hand digging half-moon marks into his hair fell away, leaving only the distinctly unpleasant sensation of blood crusting into his scalp. The needle left his upper arm and was replaced with cool ice, soothing the inflamed skin. Cisco moaned in relief as Wells wiped away his tears with his thumb, stroking the bruises along his cheekbones.

“There you go,” he soothed him, “that’s it. You were such a good boy. You’ll be forgiven when all of this is settled. How could you not? The instinct to obey is so strong in you, Cisco. You’d be anyone’s prize possession with that kind of attitude.”

Cisco’s stomach cramped with nausea and he bit it down. It felt good to have ice on his wounds and to have a moment’s peace. But it was only that—a moment. He knew this. It was coming any second now, like it had the night before, like it would tonight, and again and again, endless—

Wells sighed as he hovered over Cisco’s neck, stroking the wet, bruised skin there, “My angel. How I love you so. You are my greatest creation.”

“No,” Cisco said, his voice shaking, “no, no no.”

“I made you; you’re mine.” Wells wiped his hands on Cisco’s thighs, the rasp of skin on fabric drowning out Cisco’s desperate refusals as he continued his examination. “What could be more perfect?”

Cisco screwed his eyes shut and said nothing, his breathing slow and heavy and hissing through his teeth, terror making the marrow of his bones cold. Here was a part of him in the past with Barry, with Lisa; here was a part of him in the present, with his mentor hanging over him  as Cisco’s brain screamed in protest, screamed for mercy, screamed just for the sake of screaming.

There was no more future.

…

Len didn’t get the paper delivered to their safe house, because that would be moronic.

So: let there be consideration of all the ways that Iris’ plan could have gone wrong. Number one—there would be no more papers at the Galaxy, and Lisa would have been out of luck if she wanted something to read with her coffee. Number two—Lisa could’ve not gone out for coffee at all. This was less likely, as the longer they stayed cooped up in the safe house, the more everyone wanted a hardy cappuccino. Number three could have been that out of the five different papers on the rack, Lisa could have ignored the one Iris wrote for, and instead picked another of the other papers laying there.

The real end result was that she didn’t choose it at all, because paying for papers at a coffee store always feels like a waste when someone will inevitably just leave theirs on the table, which is exactly what happened, which just meant all the reasons it could have gone wrong—or right—felt kind of useless in the face of sheer dumb luck, which is just how the universe likes it.

Lisa ordered two cappuccinos that morning without thinking about why, and sat down to flip through the paper atop her table, worrying at her lip. The gut feeling had never quite left, but it bloomed like a corpse flower in her belly, unpredictable and altogether terrible. She leafed through the first four useless pages until coming to the classified section.

Iris had done her job well; the only sign of Cisco’s disappearance that could have gotten back to anyone dangerous was a tiny blurb plus a blurry picture that read; “Missing: Francisco Ramon, gone since 12/22/14, please call this number if found—“

The rest of it didn’t have to be read. Lisa _roared,_ a lioness heaving its way out of her chest as she smacked her coffees aside, slammed down the paper, and was in the car with the keys in the ignition before Len and Mick had a chance to pilfer an abandoned coffee from off the counter.

Because they loved her deeply and were also slightly afraid of her at the moment, they both slid into the car seconds later with another cappuccino for her, putting it gently into the cupholder.

“Lissie,” Mick said, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Len, “baby girl. Tell us what happened—“

“I’m going to take the Flash’s dick and _rip it off,”_ Lisa snarled, slamming her foot on the gas and tearing out of the lot.

“I feel like that’s a bit harsh, but okay,” Len griped as she practically flung the car onto the highway back towards Central City, propelled by fury and hatred alone. “Lis? What’s the matter?”

Lisa didn’t say anything for a long time. They didn’t push her. Then, finally, just as the sign warning them Central City was another three exits away showed up in their vision, Lisa sighed, changing lanes.

“When I sent Cisco away,” Lisa said, “it was because I was a monster. But not _just._ I thought the Flash would protect him. That he _loved_ him. That he would keep him _safe.”_

Lisa’s fists tightened on the steering wheel, white-knuckled and cold. “I was wrong on all counts.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is helpful for once in his life. Still not more attractive than Lisa, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of making the next few chapters a little longer--I know the updates have been spotty, but I technically wrote this a year ago, (well, started it a year ago, finished it in August) and so now I'm getting very particular about editing since it's been so long. Thank you for being patient, everyone~!

Barry sped back into the lab that night, his heels skidding on the floor as Caitlin and Iris looked up at the noise and crackle of lightning. Iris grinned. “Hi, bud.”

“Hey,” he beamed. “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Caitlin said, frowning.

Barry lifted his mask off, pulling the cover off over his head. There was a loud banging echoing from down the hall as he crossed the room to start removing the suit. Iris cocked her head. “Is that…someone knocking on the door?”

It had been, but now it was fire. More specifically, Mick melting the door down and Len freezing the remains so Lisa could kick through it, screaming like a harpy as she tore her way into the room and grabbed Barry by the throat, throwing him through the glass sliding door between Cisco’s side of the lab and the control center.

Caitlin gasped, a huge, hideous sucking breath; Iris laughed, because she had no other response available, her mind shutting down and hollering at her to do _something,_ so laugh it was, then.

“You _fuck!”_ Lisa screamed, her fist ramming into his face like it was a siege gate. “You _fucker! You got my Cisco killed!”_

“ _Your_ Cisco?” Caitlin snapped, her incredulous expression a match for Barry’s as he struggled to move out from underneath Lisa. Something harder than strength kept her on top of him, punching his face without missing even though tears poured down her cheeks and her eyes were screwed shut.

“ _I sent him to you,”_ Lisa said, punctuating this opening statement by grabbing Barry’s shoulders and slamming him into the floor, “so he would be _safe! I let him go!_ Because I was _poison!_ I was a _monster!_ _You! Were supposed! To be better than me!”_

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, his voice soft. Lisa jerked her hand back. There was a silence in the lab now, aside from the occasional twinkling clatter of falling glass.

“What?” she said, reaching up to rub her eyes. Her mascara didn’t smear—she’d been self-aware enough to wear waterproof, and it made Barry smile for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

“I, um—I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. I am. I love him too, okay? He’s my best friend in the entire world. I promise, I’m blaming myself just as much as you are right now.”

“Good,” Lisa said, but there was no bite left to it. “You bastard. I should shoot you.”

“Can’t, Lis, our boy loves this brat too,” Len sighed. “Trust me. If I could, I would. That’s not why we’re here.”

He holstered his gun. “Sorry about the door. Lisa needed to rampage a little. I think she’s owed that.”

“Owed _what?_ And _for_ what?” Iris accused, whirling on Len with a glower. “This is _her fault!”_

“You sent him away,” Barry accused. Lisa’s grip on his shoulders tightened, her teeth bared, her lips pulled back in a grimace.

“Don’t you dare,” she snarled. “It’s so fucking easy for you to pretend like it was so fucking _easy_ for me, because you’re _human._ You’re not a monster or a criminal or a, a _pervert_ keeping the boy you liked _trapped_ like some fairy tale dragon! I _had_ to let him go!”

“You didn’t let him go,” Barry said, “you sent him _away_.”

Silence. Barry finally remembered she was still digging her fingers into his shoulders, drawing blood even through the suit, and managed to sit up and push her off. She didn’t resist him.

“There’s a difference,” Barry said, “I promise, there is, and I don’t think you got it before. And I can’t understand why, either. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t get up completely, but he clambered to a crouch, near enough to meet her eyes without getting too close. “Joe told me about your dad.”

Lisa flinched; Len snarled, and Iris held a hand up. It quieted him, but he took a step closer to his sister, and his gun had left its holster.

“He said no one on the force did anything, and I don’t think he knew _why,”_ Barry said. “The world looks different when you’re a cop. It was easy for him to hurt you. It shouldn’t have been. I’m so sorry.”

There was another silence. Lisa’s hair hung around her face like a curtain on a hot day, still and unmoving.

“It shapes you,” Barry says, “a childhood like that. I think. It must. Right? I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Lisa nodded, still not looking at him. Barry acknowledged it with a nod of his own and continued on.

“But Cisco’s safe. Cisco’s good. You can’t hurt him, I promise. I want you to know that, because I know him. He’s good, and kind, and most importantly, he’s strong. The strongest guy I know. Your dad and everything he did to you doesn’t stand a chance against all that. Cisco’s way more powerful. So much better.”

He got up with a grunt of exertion, brushing broken glass away from the rips in his suit—a simple repair, something Cisco could do later. Would be able to do later. Barry refused to think of anything but Cisco safe and sound in the lab, working on their suit. Lisa didn’t move.

“If you trust him,” Barry said, “it won’t matter if you’re a monster anymore, because he’s not. He never could be. And there’s no monster in the world that could defeat him. Let him make you weak, Lisa. Once he does, I think you can learn how to be strong again.”

Barry shifted from foot to foot. “You know. I’m not, like, great at speeches—“

Lisa got up in a flurry of her leather jacket and motorcycle boots, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, you big red idiot. Thank you.”

She buried her face into his neck and hugged him tighter, murmuring again, “thank you.”

She pulled away. “I love him more, though. I hardly think that needs to be said.”

Barry made a noise of disagreement and Lisa gave him a sharp look. “What, Scarlet? You afraid of a little competition? Though I don’t think it’s fair, given the—what’s the word?”

“Disparity,” Len filled in for her. Lisa pointed a friendly finger gun in his direction.

“Yeppers. Disparity between the candidates. Paramours, if you will.”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. “I’m attractive! I’m totally attractive!”

He whipped on Caitlin and Iris. “Right?”

Caitlin made a hesitant noise in the back of her throat and wiggled her hand. There was a beat. Mick muffled a snort of laughter into his fist. Barry ignored it, gaping at Iris hopefully.

Iris shrugged. “I mean, compared to Lisa, or…”

Barry heaved a groan. “Oh my god. Fine! Let’s get back to what matters—“

“I’m going to kill everyone responsible for this, that’s what matters,” Mick said, bristling. “That’s a fuckin’ promise, ‘cause that’s Lissie’s fuckin’ boyfriend, and our fuckin’ kid.”

“No! Wait, seriously, please—I just don’t think you _can,”_ Barry said. Mick snarled.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Scarlet,” he snapped. “Just because we haven’t gone public with your identity yet doesn’t mean we can’t—“

“Michael, love of my life, our ace in the hole,” Len said, his voice exceedingly dry. Mick growled. Len shrugged. “What? Fair trade. We know _his_ name, he should know yours.”

“The only people who call me Michael are Aunt Ang, Granma Rizzi, and Great-Granma Raffaella, God rest her fuckin’ soul,” Mick snapped.

“How can she call you that if she’s dead?” Lisa piped up.

“She talks to Aunt Ang in her dreams,” Mick said, the picture of smugness. “She used to do it all the time when she was alive, an’ it’s not like being dead s’gonna stop her. Old Italian ladies talk to the dead all the time. S’science an’ shit. Ask Cisco.”

“Oh my god,” Caitlin mumbled, rubbing her temples. “Everyone shut up. Barry’s right. This is so serious. I definitely know who took him, and he’s in so much fucking danger—“

This sobered them up some; Len surveyed Caitlin with hard eyes. “The Santinis haven’t forgotten what we did to their precious Don. I’m sure they’ve got some hand in this—“

“What _I_ did—“ Mick protested, and Len held up a hand.

“No, what _we_ did, because you don’t get to stew in regrets alone, welcome to being a family,” Len said.

“I don’t regret it.”

Len made an impatient noise. “Point being, they’ve got a bone to pick with us, and they know he’s our baby. The mob loves that shit.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mick agreed, grinning. “S’personal. It’s all about _family,_ and it’s all about _style.”_

“Well, good news numbnuts, it’s not some half-wit Brando wannabes, it’s—“ Caitlin flapped her hands uselessly, listless, a gesture she’d pilfered from Cisco. “Well—“

“Wells,” Barry said, almost a sigh. “We haven’t seen him since—“

“Four days ago,” Iris said, “thereabouts. Didn’t you mention he wasn’t in the lab?”

“Well, kinda,” Barry said. “We were, um—totally trespassing in this weird side room and I’m not explaining it in front of _them_ , but the point is—he just came in and got something. Don’t know what, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Who’s he?” Len said, pulling out a chair for his sister to sit on and hook her legs over the sides, glowering at them as gears spun behind her glittering eyes, cooking up a plan. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“He’s our—Cisco’s mentor,” Caitlin said. “He, um. Paid for Cisco’s transition. Mostly. But, it wasn’t—“

She sighed. “I don’t know. But I saw signs like—like maybe I was reading too much into it, but—“

“You weren’t,” Lisa said, her voice sharp and striking, flint against tinder. Caitlin nodded.

“I always got this vibe that he never did it for Cisco, but, um, himself,” she said. “Which is weird, I know! But—even before we knew he was a really awful guy, like, mom-murdering levels of awful, there was this… _something_ between him and Cisco, and not in a good way.”

There was a beat.

“So,” Len said, exchanging a glance with Mick, “my plan is, you melt the flesh off his legs first, and then _I_ freeze the wound over, and then his hands, so he can rot to death of frostbite and gangrene, slow and personal.”

“Style,” Mick agreed.

“ _No,”_ Barry insisted. “Please. Look. I know—he’s an evil, awful person. He killed my _mom,_ and now he might’ve taken Cisco—“

“Your mother,” Len said. Something dark and unknowable flitted across his face. “Ah. Well, Scarlet.”

Barry looked away. “You can’t stop him. He’s got my powers, but he’s—he—he might be stronger than me. Maybe. I don’t know.”

He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath. “Let’s just focus on getting Cisco back, please? Then we can figure everything else out. I just—I just gotta know he’s safe. And I need your help. Please.”

Len sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Well, then. Where’s his house?”

“What?” Caitlin said, brows furrowing to a point. Len made a face.

“Well, snowflake, you can’t tell me you didn’t expect us to adhere to well-worn habits,” Len said. “We’re gonna break into his house and see what we can find. If it’s our Cisco, then we won. If it’s not—then we’re not leaving his house until he’s dead or we can find where Cisco actually _is.”_

“I don’t think—“

“I’ll take you,” Barry said, cutting Caitlin off. She gaped at him and he shook his head. “I know, Cait. But after what you told us, I just…I don’t feel safe. I have a bad feeling about this. We should go at least investigate.”

There was a moment before Caitlin sighed and rubbed her temples. “Okay, fine. Iris and I will stay behind and watch the computers. Take this.”

She snatched a small camera off the desk and pressed it into his hand. “We can watch you from this. Be careful, okay?”

“Always am,” Barry promised.

“Bullshit,” Iris said, and Barry laughed.

“Okay, fair, but this isn’t about being reckless,” he said, “this is about Cisco. So let’s go.”

Lisa, Len, and Mick didn’t say anything—they agreed by following him out, guns in tow, bristling with a shared simmering fury stoking the fires of plan-making in their minds.


	15. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Barry find some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for discussions of surgery and just general sexual assault and bodily violation, because this was something I just couldn't edit down any further without removing the point entirely. It's not pretty, but this is what happens when you try to work out your gender emotions in fiction instead of with a therapist, y'all.

The drive to Wells’ house was oddly pleasant. The radio was playing a song Lisa liked, and Barry could tell because she enjoyed singing along, too, and it wasn’t that she was _bad,_ but it was just that he had other things on his mind, like the person he loved the most in the world who wasn’t Iris was possibly being held hostage by his worst enemy.

It had been simple when Len had been his biggest problem, Barry considered as he jerked the wheel to the right, because the reason he hadn’t switched radio stations or just turned the song off was because Len loved his baby sister, and sure, he’d punch Barry’s guts out for upsetting her by changing her song, but he’d do it because he had a _code._ Because she was his _sister,_ and Mick was his _husband,_ and—what had he said? They all shared their regrets together.

Cisco, too, then, Barry realized. Given everything that happened, there had to be regret there, and so now Cisco was shared among these three dangerous, terrible people. It would have made him fearful, except he knew the truth under that truth—that Cisco made them less so, and thus made them something _more._ Something leashed and grounded, if not tamed.

This was how he came to his third conclusion, related in part to the other two, which was that the reason it was easy to have Len as his nemesis and not the Man in Yellow was because Len had a _code._ Len had people he loved. Len had honor, and reason, and he was unscrupulous and ruthless and brutal, but in the interest of something, someone other than himself. This was not the way of the Man in Yellow—of the Reverse Flash. And that kind of scared him to death.

Still, he grit his teeth and drove through Lisa’s second favorite song, and her third, and just when he thought he would get reprieve, Len smirked and said, “Oh, I _love_ this one,” and Barry groaned, big and theatrical, met with laughter in response.

It quieted as he pulled into the long, winding driveway leading up to Wells’ austere, modern house.

“This is some Frank Lloyd Wright shit,” Mick remarked, getting out of the car. Barry quirked an eyebrow. Mick shrugged. “What? I get smart when I’m nervous. S’a bad habit.”

“He’s got alarms,” Len said, turning over a stone along the pathway and pulling wires out from underneath it. “Lis, princess, switch.”

She handed him her switchblade and Len worried at the copper until it was frayed just enough to satisfy him. “There we go. The work of mice, the elements—certainly not thieves.”

“Certainly not,” Lisa agreed, the picture of prim amusement until she glanced at Mick and shared a giggling snort.

Len beckoned them forward, and even Barry followed before his brain got the better of the rest of him yelling, _He’s not your king, idiot, knock it off—_

And he wasn’t, Barry reassured his brain, but he was _a_ king. That still counted, watching him guide the three of them around the range of security cameras and disabling the fingerprint scanner at the door with a rubber casing around Lisa’s switchblade. He slid into the house like a shadow, throwing his reign over the entire foyer, casting his greatness wide.

“Mick, basement,” Len said. “Or, wait—this house is cliffside. Probably no basement. Attic. Check the attic, and Lisa, upstairs. Scarlet and I will stay down here.”

They nodded, obeying without a moment’s hesitation. Only Barry remained, blinking and gawping at Len’s gloved hands rifling through drawers and casually yanking out papers.

“Well, Barry?” Len said, making him jump. “Let’s find our boy.”

…

They didn’t. They found something worse, but they hadn’t yet. For now, it was just Barry and Len rifling through the drawers, the desk in the living room, under the couches and sliding their hands along the wall, searching for catches, seams, concealed doorways in plain sight.

“He’s got a nice liquor cabinet,” Len noted.

“No.”

Len laughed. “Stop me, Scarlet.”

“I’ll tell Cisco.”

Barry’s hunch was proved correct; Len clenched his jaw and glanced aside, like a kid with his hand still covered in cookie crumbs.

“Fine,” he said. “Any secret entrances, kid?”

“None I can find,” Barry sighed, removing his hands from the walls. He zipped from room to room, and in ten seconds, Len was greeted by Barry bounding back in and adding, “See? I checked every room on this floor—“

“You did, but you didn’t check them like a criminal,” Len said, sauntering over to the door at the end of the hall, shunting it open. He smiled, satisfied.

“There we go. Master bedroom,” he said, creeping in, knocking a disc off the shelf as he entered. Barry quirked an eyebrow. Len snorted. “Hidden camera. Cheap model. He doesn’t trust the maids, I take it?”

Barry shrugged. “Don’t think he trusts anyone.”

“Well, there’s hardly anything to be done about that,” Len tutted. “Anyways. If this son of a bitch has anything on Cisco, I’d bet hard money it’s in here, because Caitlin said—“

“I didn’t know,” Barry said, mostly to himself and wringing his hands. “Oh, god. If I’d known about it—“

“That’s not how abuse works, kiddo,” Len said, kneeling down and sliding under the bed, his next thoughts muffled by the boxspring, “of course you didn’t notice, because the good doctor didn’t want you to. Promised Cisco you’d hate him if he said anything to you. Gave him the entire world on the one condition he never do anything, ever, to upset him, not once, or he would be _In Trouble.”_

There was a beat. Len snorted, hot and hateful as a bull. “Some of us would call him lucky. We didn’t even get the first part of the terms and conditions.”

“That’s not how love should be,” Barry murmured. Len pushed himself out from underneath the bed, a thin, neat stack of papers clutched in his fist. He bared his teeth, wild and shining.

“Good news, Scarlet, that’s not love,” he drawled, peeling back the first page and glancing down at the contents. “That’s abuse.”

His mask dropped for a second. The papers clattered to the floor. Len looked at nothing, and his hands would not stop shaking. Barry lifted his head slowly. “Snart?”

Len’s jaw flapped uselessly, his tongue tight in his mouth as his throat bobbed, his face pale, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Barry reached a hand out. “Len?”

No response. Barry knelt, picking up the papers and flipping to a random page. He was already crouching, which was just as well, because when he doubled over, retching, there wasn’t much farther to go.

Barry screamed, muffled by his hands, the carpet, tears stinging his eyes and sliding under the leather of the mask. Once the desperate, panting howl wound down, he lifted his head at the rustle of paper. “Len—“

“Bearing witness,” he mumbled, dreamlike and vague, flipping through the pages.

They were in color, but in the way of mugshots and crime scenes; filtered poorly, almost wobbling against the reflection of the camera, like everything was under water. The only thing that stood out, stark and crystalline, was the blood on Cisco’s chest, long trails from grabbing fingers dripping down from snarled stitches.

“Jesus Christ,” Len forced out from past his shaking lips. “He shouldn’t have these. Why do these exist? This is—this is torture.”

“No,” Barry said, forcing himself to get up and look over Len’s shoulder, “I think this is surgery.”

Len glanced aside, realization turning his stomach to lead. “We shouldn’t get to see these. But more than that, _he_ shouldn’t have these. What—what _happened_?”

Barry pressed his communicator. “Cait? You’re seeing what we’re seeing?”

A strangled, wretched cry was his only response. He cringed. “I know. I’m sorry. But this is important—was Dr. Wells present for Cisco’s surgery?”

“He wasn’t a surgeon,” Caitlin said, her voice mucus-clogged and agonized, “but yes. He observed. And I guess he just took _pictures_ , like Cisco was a, a _toy,_ or an _animal—“_

“Or worse,” Len said, quiet, running his thumb over the next picture, more private and awful than the first, in a neverending chain of constantly one-upped depravity. Len assumed at some point it would have to lose its ability to get worse, that the blood would become less sticky and slaughterhouse-red, that the shots would be less focused on Cisco’s newly-healing chest, or lower, opening up like a _fleurs du mal_. At some point, numbness had to set in, blurring his emotions to resemble the faded and watery light in the pictures.

It did not.

“That’s _disgusting.”_

“I found these under the bed, snowflake,” Len said. “And so what I’m going to do is put them back.”

“We _can’t—_ they’re _evidence,”_ Barry protested, holding his hands up. “There’s got to be something we can arrest him on for these, this violates like, at least a dozen medical principles—“

“I will not,” Len said, his voice rough and quiet, “show these to the courts. To be examined like an autopsy report. This is his _body._ And at the very moment he was doing his damn best to become more comfortable and safe in it, all of that was stolen from him, Scarlet.”

“It’s—I, I mean—it matters, but so does catching him, and bringing Wells to justice, and—“

“Not to Cisco,” Len said.

“He’s not here, you can’t speak for him!” Barry retorted. Len held up his hands.

“Fine. I won’t. Then I’ll speak as Lisa’s brother and say that she’s never allowed to even know these things exist. I will not let her think for a _second_ that Cisco was in danger for trying to live his god damn life. I don’t want my sister to be scared, ever again. I don’t want Cisco to hate something that made him so happy. Do you understand?”

Len’s chest rose. He was so lean and starved under that huge jacket of his, Barry noted. It barely shifted as his ribs heaved and tossed like a tempest. Barry held his hands out to Len, hoping he would take any port in this storm.

“You have to understand,” Len repeated, licking his lips and glancing away, blinking hard.

Barry nodded. “I do. I really do. But I also have to tell you I can’t let you do that.”

Len growled. Barry shook his head. “I don’t want to have to fight you for them. I will, but— here’s a proposition first. At least bring the papers with us. When we—when we find Cisco, and we explain…he makes the choice. About all of it. Telling Lisa, bringing it to the police, everything.”

There was a silence for a second before Len stuffed the papers in his coat, cringing away from them like they burned. “Fine. But if I get shit for lying to my baby sister, you’re going to get it from me, Scarlet.”

“Okay,” Barry nodded, a weak smile on his face. “Sounds good.”

Nothing was good. Nothing would ever be okay again, even. Not until they found Cisco, and even then—

“C’mere, kid,” Len said, and before Barry could react, Len pulled him into an awkward, one-armed hug. He flinched. Len sighed. “It’ll be fine. Cisco’s safe now, and the man who did this to him is going to suffer at our hand. That’s all that matters.”

He pulled away and turned his head. “C’mon. Let’s go get Lisa and Mick.”

Barry followed out of the room and up the stairs, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on the place in Len’s coat where the pages they’d taken rustled, his mind ricocheting in all different directions, none of which seemed to lead towards Cisco.

…

Lisa and Mick hadn’t found anything either, which was obvious from the second they rejoined them. Len made a face. “All right. So he’s not at the house. Leave, regroup.”

“You’re sure it was really this Wells guy?” Lisa said, brow furrowed. “Not like there’s a ton of other crazies baying for our blood with the mob on our backs or nothin’.”

“I’m sure.”

They’d had the same smile, Cisco said—the same face, and eyes, and dark hair, even if hers was much longer. But when she searched her brother, she found she didn’t know him at all.

“Well,” she said, “if you’re sure.”

He nodded and took her hand. “Lis? Nothing’s ever gonna hurt you. I promise.”

“I know,” she sighed, clucking her tongue. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Worry ‘bout Cisco.”

“He’s got to be somewhere underground,” Len said as he led them back out the door and silently towards the car. He checked the door as they left with a satisfied nod. “Which means we need to start spelunking.”

“And here I am wearing heels,” Lisa griped. “Mick, gimme your boots.”

“There’s a spare pair in the van, Lis, check the back,” Len said, opening the door and climbing in.

“There’s not that many places underground that you can access easily,” Barry said. “Um. The first one that comes to mind is—“

“The particle accelerator,” Iris said from over the communicators. “Oh my god. Barry. Jesus Christ, Barry. He’s—“

Barry’s brain had caught up quick enough, but his heart had yet to get the memo. Once it did, it plummeted, like it was in a race to reach Cisco first. Barry opened and closed his mouth, to no avail.

“Son of a bitch put him right underneath you the whole time,” Mick said, not unkindly. He clasped Barry on the shoulder. “Kid. You didn’t know. Let’s go and get him already. You can apologize later.”

Barry nodded, numb, trying not to think about how it was his former greatest foes urging him into the car, Mick taking the keys from him to drive. He closed his eyes as Mick pulled out of the driveway. For the fastest man alive, waiting to fix this was going to be the hardest task of all.

Lisa, after a moment’s pause, put the radio on. This time, it was Barry’s favorite song that was playing, and she didn’t switch the station.


End file.
